


The Psychological Contract

by Sythia



Series: The Contract [1]
Category: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice (Video Game)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Drama & Romance, F/M, Heartbreak, Romance, Vaginal Sex, business deal gone bad, safe sex, starts fluffy ends smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sythia/pseuds/Sythia
Summary: If you had to choose between your families livelihood and your dignity what would you do? How far are you willing to go to hold up this charade? How long can you last playing the role of the perfect fiance to a man who looks at you with such contempt? How long until the contract ends?New readers, come join us on discord for lots of MLQC discussions https://discord.gg/sn45jhB ***Must be 18+ to join!***





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [space_trashlord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_trashlord/gifts).



> Thank you so much to all of my lovely Thots who helped me (and continue to) with this fic! I'd name all y'all but I'd hate to unintentionally forget any of you. I swear like 10 of us helped this chapter alone come to fruition.

The taxi you were in was eerily quiet. You were headed to a meeting with your father. While you had never met the man you were seeing today, you had heard of some uncomfortable stories. You took a deep breath and looked at the nervous older man beside you. He told you to come for moral support, but you felt like that was a lie. Your father was planning something, and it somehow involved you.

Your heels clacked loudly against the marble floor in the lobby. The sound carried through the enormous room and echoed back to you. Your heart pounded in the time with your steps. Your father led you straight where the elevators were located. He clicked the button for one of the higher floors. It felt like the elevator stopped on every level. People in business attire flowed in and out. Some carrying documents, others talking loudly over hands-free speakers nestled against their ear. Finally, you reached the floor of your destination.

Along the walk, the two of you ran into a young man who introduced himself as Victor's assistant, Goldman. He gave your father a somber look and directed the two of you the rest of the way to the office. Goldman tapped lightly on the door. A voice from the other side answered. The assistant poked his head through the door.

"Your five o'clock is here." He said to whoever was in the room.

"Send them in." The voice replied.

Three years ago your father went to speak to the CEO of LFG about a business idea he had. The banks all denied his request for a loan but using his connections from University he managed to score a meeting with the young man. Surprising everyone, Victor agreed to the loan as long as he was paid back every cent, with interest.

After the business bombed, it came time to pay the dues. Your family sold everything. Car, house, phones, even your beloved family pets. Just to attempt to pay back what was owed.

Your father still came up short.

"Good evening! Thank you for meeting us on such short notice." Your father bowed respectfully.

You looked from your father to the man before you. Your father politely introduced you, prompting you to bow as well. Victor cleared his throat.

"I almost thought you wouldn't show." He said slowly. "Are you prepared to pay the remainder of your debt?"

"Ah, well, you see..." Your father stumbled over his words, nervously fiddling with the hem of his jacket.

"Why would you come here if you have nothing to offer me? How do you plan on paying me back? Did you not come up with a contingency plan?" Victor's voice deepened with annoyance.

Your father looked at you. A worrisome crease formed between his eyebrows. It was almost as if he was apologizing for what he was about to say. He turned back to the younger man. He pulled his shoulders back and rose his head confidently.

"All my wife and I have left to offer is our daughter. Please take her hand in marriage." You father collapsed to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor beneath you.

"What the hell, Dad?" You yelled at the older man next to you. 

"I'm sorry, honey. This is our only option." He said sadly.

"The hell it is! I'm a person, not property! You can't just sell me!" You huffed.

The man you now loathed sat with his hands clasped together in contemplation of the proposal your father had offered. You hated this man with every fiber of your being. As far as you were concerned, he ruined your family. Your father wasn't much better.

Victor sat back, garnering the attention of you and your father.

"Tell me. What do I gain by marrying your daughter and forgiving your debt?" Victor asked, glancing at you then back to your father.

"Well, you see..." Your father began.

"I have a better question." You snapped, interrupting your father. "Why did you loan him money for such a stupid idea?"

Victor placed his hands calmly onto the arms of his chair, pushed it back with his feet, and rose. He was taller than you assumed when you first saw him, sitting in that chair. He slid both of his hands into the pockets of his pants and circled around to the front of his desk. His gaze studied you. 

"Your father's idea wasn't a stupid one. In fact, it was an excellent idea. He can't help the fact a recession hit six months after he opened the store. Many small businesses were forced to close." He said, staring you down. An air of arrogance around him.

"Well, can't you give him a break?" You asked defiantly.

"I gave him a break a year ago when he showed up here with only half of what he owed and asked for more time to pay the rest. I could have said no." Victor turned to your father. "I'm still waiting for your answer."

Your father looked up from the floor. "What do you gain? She's a beautiful, young, smart woman. She's loyal and..." 

"Dad, stop. This arrogant prick doesn't care. He just gets off on watching you beg." You roll your eyes.

Your father gapped at you. Shocked by your words. You grabbed his arm and yanked, trying to get him to stand up.

"You have quite a mouth on you," Victor said, staring down at you and your father. "I have some terms."

You dropped your father's arm at Victor's words. Was he even remotely interested in this idea, or was he toying with your family? You swallowed hard. He returned to his desk, peeled some sort of magazine off of it and returned to where he stood before.

"I have a problem I believe you can help with." He said, his voice softening ever so slightly.

He dropped the magazine he held in front of your father. It landed with a quiet slap on the floor. Your father gingerly picked it up, peering over the cover.

"CEO of LFG spotted entering a jewelry store. More details on page thirty-four." Your father read aloud.

You knelt next to your father. The picture present was an obviously blurred picture of what could be Victor entering some high-end store. You didn't see what the big deal was. Glancing up, you noticed Victor had taken his place gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window. His right palm pressed firmly on the frame. The setting sun cast an orange glow over his features making his face look softer, kinder. You turned away and shook your head. There's no way this, this, fiend, could be anything close to kind. Your father had skipped to the page the article was on and began to read again.

"Sources say CEO Victor of LFG was spotted purchasing an engagement ring. Rumors are circulating about the unofficial relationship between him and star Chik..." He trailed off.

Victor let out an annoyed sigh.

"That woman has been bothering me for ages. I'll agree to waive the rest of your debt on the stipulation your daughter becomes my faux fiance. Just until this other woman is out of my hair, and out of my life," Victor said calmly.

His eyes were still cast over the horizon, the sun reflected brightly in the grey hue of his irises. His face showed no signs of emotion. You and your father shared a look. You knew this came down to you.

You sighed and closed your eyes. Thoughts drifted to your mother, who was in the process of moving the small number of possessions your family owned into the tiny apartment they had to rent. You weighed the pros and cons carefully in your mind. This man was cold, rude, calculated and probably has some weird fetish he'd force you to perform. On the other hand, if you don't do this, your entire family will have to work until the day they die to pay off this debt. Probably your children and grandchildren as well. How much was your dignity worth?

"Fine. I'll do it, but I have a few stipulations of my own." You sighed and returned to your feet, gripping the magazine. You father followed suit.

Victor turned from the window. 

"Such as?" He said with his usual calm tone.

"Well, if I'm pretending to be your fiance, that means we've had to have been together for a while." You began.

Victor started walking towards you as you spoke. You tried to hide your nervousness as he sauntered closer to you.

"I request permission to live in your house. My parents could only afford a small apartment. It's just too cramped with the three of us." You said in a quieter tone of voice.

He kept coming closer, pursing his lips slightly at the idea you had proposed. Heat rushed to your face as he towered over you.

"Is that all?" Victor asked.

"No weird sex stuff." You added, locking your eyes on his, even though your face felt flushed.

Your father made a strange noise, but you held your sight fixed on Victor. He returned your gaze with unwavering tenacity. The two of you were like feral animals protecting their respective territories, daring the other to strike first. At that moment, you noticed a hint of violet mixed with the grey of his irises.

"I expect my fake fiance to have a little more brains in her head than air." Victor scoffed, tapping your forehead with the tip of his finger.

The interaction pulled you out of your thoughts. You slapped his hand away in defiance and glared at him. You swore, maybe for a millisecond, a smile pulled on the corners of his lips. He turned to your father. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You hadn't realized it until now, but your body was shaking, and a queasy feeling was spreading through your abdomen.

"I'll send someone to retrieve her possessions. I'll be heading home after this meeting. She can accompany me."

Your father bowed and thanked the man. He shot you a forlorn look offering you another apology before scuttling out of the door. Victor returned his gaze to you. He nodded his head towards the open door, signifying it was time to leave. You tightened your fist around the magazine you still held, crumpling the pages, and followed your new fiance out.


	2. Chapter 2

You stepped out of the company car. The driver bowed to you as you stepped past him, tipping his hat politely in your direction. You smiled at him and turned to face the large house that stood before you. A gasp escaped you. You knew Victor must have owned a large home, but this was just a little ridiculous for a lone person to live in. The lawn was perfectly manicured, with not a brown spot in sight. The outside lights slowly flickered on, illuminating the modern face of the structure.  
Victor waltzed past you as you stood in awe of his home. He stopped a few feet in front of you, and turn slightly to look at you over his shoulder.

"Have you never seen a house before? Hurry up, or you'll be sleeping out here with the mosquitos tonight." He said and began walking to the front door.

You shook your head and jogged up to him. Annoyed at his threat. Before you could open your mouth to reply, you saw your tattered, old suitcase sitting on the front step. Victor gave it a quizzical look.

"That's mine." You growled, yanking it away from him as he prodded it with the toe of his shoe.

Victor pressed some of the numbers on the keypad next to the door handle. A clunky click signified the door was unlocked. He reached out and opened the door, but waited for you to enter. Using two hands, you pulled on the heavy suitcase. It was filled to the brim with everything you owned. Victor watched you struggle for a moment before taking the handle from you and lifting it as if it were a feather.

"Thank you." You said, but the tone of your voice didn't match the words you spoke.

"Are the rest of your things arriving later?" He asked, following you into the foyer and setting your suitcase down inside of the door.

"Nope, that's all I own." You say, your eyes scanning the large room. 

To the left appeared to be a living room, to the right was the dining room. In front of you, there was a set of chic floating stairs and a hallway leading to the rest of the house.

"This is all you own?" He scoffed, drawing you from your mind once again.

"Well you see, some douchenozzle insisted on my dad paying him a ton of money by a certain time. We didn't have that kind of money, so we sold everything that wasn't a necessity." You shot at him.

Victor inhaled sharply and gave you a cold stare. You gave him a funny look because he didn't snap back with some witty retort like you were expecting. Instead, he carried your suitcase up the stairs and straight down the hall until he came to the end, where two doors stood. One of the doors was directly at the end of the hallway, the other was just to the right. He opened the door to the right and clicked on the light.

"This will be your room." He said, breaking the silence at last and resting the suitcase against the inner wall.

"Where's your room?" You asked curiously, hoping it would be on the other side of the house. The least you had to see him, the better. Unfortunately, he nodded to the door next to yours. You raised your eyebrow at him and sighed.

"I'll take care of dinner," Victor said, glancing at his watch, "Make yourself comfortable, explore, do whatever you want. I'll call you when the food is ready."

He strode down the hallway, and headed back down the stairs, disappearing out of sight. You turned to face the surprisingly ordinary room before you. 

The wall that bed rested against was deep indigo. The bedding was white with matching indigo stitching. The wall you stood against, and the one opposite the bed were white. The remaining wall had a large bow window that overlooked the backyard. You shut the door behind you and noticed the dresser next to it. It was white with indigo knobs. Curiously, you checked every drawer but found them empty. The drawers in the end tables on either side of the bed were also bare.

You sat on the bed for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your eyes drifted to the opposing wall where two doors stood. You made your way to them; the first opened up to a large walk-in closet, it too was empty. The second door revealed to be a decent sized bathroom, that had the same white and indigo color scheme as the bedroom.

It took you only ten minutes to unpack your belongings. You chose to put your clothing in the dresser rather than the closet. Not knowing when dinner would be ready, you decided to explore the rest of the house. Stepping out of your room, you glanced curiously at Victor's bedroom door.

"He did say I could do whatever I wanted." You mumble quietly to yourself.

You poked your head through the door and took a quick look around to make sure Victor wasn't in there. After confirming the coast was clear, you pushed the door the rest of the way open. Unsurprisingly, his room matched his office at work; black and white. You noticed the wall that was shared with your room housed his bed. There was a balcony off of the west wall; the glass spanned the entire length of it. You slid open the door and stepped out in the chilly air. Spring was only just beginning and evenings were still brisk. You look off in the distance, seeing the lights from the city. You rubbed your chilled arms and returned to the warmth of the house.

Continuing with your exploration of his private quarters, you quickly found the bathroom which contained a jacuzzi style tub that could comfortably fit at least ten people in it. You shook your head and turned to open the door to his closet. You scoffed at the contents. Countless rows of suits, shirts, even work out and sporting clothes in shades of grey and black. You opened one of the drawers nearby to find it stocked with many grey ties, another had nothing but expensive watches.

"Jeez, I could probably steal enough tiny objects from him, hawk them and pay off the debt. He'd be none the wiser." You said to yourself and ran your fingers over the watches.

"No, he's so meticulous he'd probably know I've been in his room just by how the carpet lays differently from my footsteps. He'd definitely know if I stole something. Not that I would." You sighed at your own honesty and shut the door.

The drawer to the right contained a bunch of black socks. The lack of diversity in his wardrobe caused a chuckle to arise from you. You opened the next drawer. You squinted quizzically at the neat, little rectangles of fabric that rested before you. You knew they weren't ties or socks, but you couldn't figure out what you were looking at. Your eyes widened and a blush crept up your cheeks when the realization of what you were looking at set in. You slammed the drawer shut and nearly ran from the room.

The rest of the floor contained mostly other unused bedrooms and bathrooms. Each one having similar color schemes; white with a dark color to accent it. It became clear fairly quickly that he had chosen your room because it was the only other one that contained a private bathroom.

At the far end of the hallway, just past the stairs, was a set of double doors; and the only room on the floor you hadn't explored yet. You placed a hand on the handles, pushed down the tabs and opened both doors at once.

"Rich people." You mutter staring into the vast, extravagant ballroom.

You walked carefully over the hardwood floor looking in every direction. There was a set of stairs that led up to a balcony, lining three of the walls where dining tables were placed. The tables and chairs were bare and looked as though they had never been used. Another set of stairs led to the main floor below; you assumed they connected to the kitchen. Just like Victor's bedroom, there was a wall-to-wall windowed balcony that was twice the size. Gorgeous silver crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling illuminating every single corner of the room. You stopped in the center and giggled to yourself as an idea struck you.

"It would be an honor to dance with you, your highness." You said, sticking your arm out toward and imaginary Prince.

You hummed quietly to yourself, doing your absolute best to dance the way you had seen in various romance films. Spinning slowly, dancing around and around, laughing at jokes your pretend partner was telling you; just having a good time imagining it.

"Thank you for the dance." You bowed into the empty air in front of you.

"That was dancing?" The familiar unamused voice chimed from behind you.

You spun so hard on your heel you slipped and fell with a thud. Victor was leaning against the doorframe. His jacket and tie were gone, the top couple buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up. He sighed audibly and came over, extending his hand to you; which you took after a moments pause. He pulled you off of the floor faster than you were prepared for resulting in you colliding with his chest.

"Idiot." He sneered, turning from you. "Dinner is ready."

"It's your fault. I'm a lady, you can't be so rough with us." You shot back, following him in the direction of the other set of stairs.

"You're not even close to being able to call yourself a lady." He retorted.

Your earlier assumption was correct. The other set of stairs did, in fact, lead to the kitchen. The warmth on your cheeks from your embarrassment quickly faded when you stepped into the room. 

"Woah." You breathed.

Just like the rest of the home, the style was very modern. Black cupboards with white marble top alined the room. Multiple stainless steel appliances, including a convection oven. A matching island sat in the center with four black stools tucked underneath the one side. There was a sectional couch resting against the window. The kitchen had to be nearly as large as the ballroom above it; which made sense to you since it was intended to be used to cook for dozens of guests.

In the far corner, there was a small table. Placed on it were two cloches keeping whatever was underneath them warm. A single glass of white wine, or possibly chardonnay, sat next to one cloche, and a glass of water next to the other. You glanced around the kitchen searching for any signs of the person who made the meal, but all you could see was a folded red apron laying on the counter near the sink. Assuming the chef made himself scarce for privacy, you sat at the small table at the side with the water. Victor removed both of the covers and took them to the sink before seating himself opposite you.

You took a deep breath of the smell wafting from the plate in front of you. Long, thin noodles topped with delicately placed pieces of chicken, drizzled with what looked like an alfredo sauce, and garnished with parsley. Victor raised his eyebrow at you as you examined the dish.

"It's not poisoned." He said.

"I know that! I'm just appreciating the look of the food." You made a face at him before raising your fork to your mouth.

The taste of the sauce mingled with the perfectly seasoned chicken in your mouth. It had been a very long time since you had had a decently cooked meal and you wanted to savor every bite.

"I didn't have time to make fresh pasta, so you'll have to do with store bought ones," Victor stated, taking a sip of his wine.

"Wait, are you telling me you cooked this?" You asked, shocked.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at you ignoring your question.

"Don't you need to have emotions to be able to cook this well?"

Victor set down his fork and stared you down. The room became tense again as you shot daggers back at him. You quickly finished the rest of your meal while he sat motionlessly.

"I'm going to bed." You grunted picking up your empty dishes.

Victor grabbed your wrist tightly as you attempted to walk by and growled, "Sit. We're not done."

Taking a deep breath you placed your empty dishes back on the table and seated yourself once more. The two of you sat in silence while he finished his meal. He was eating painfully slow as if he were doing it on purpose. Finally, when he was done he collected the dishes and brought them to the sink.

"For the next week, starting Monday, I'm going to teach you proper etiquette. How to eat, how to walk, how to dance. Everything." He said just loud enough to be heard over the running water.

"What is this, 'The Princess Diaries'?" You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.

"I don't know what you mean by that. We also have to come up with a new name for you. If you go by your real name everyone will know this is just a lie. And before you ask no, there's no way we could possibly use your real name. Chik isn't going to give up if she finds out the truth." He finished his speech and tied the apron around his waist.

"Listen, I'll hold up my end of the bargain. I was in drama club in high school. I know how to act." You said confidently.

"High school drama club." He closed his eyes and leaned against the counter before him. "Tomorrow night then, we'll make our first public appearance by going to dinner."

"Fine. May be excused now?" You asked in the sweetest voice you could muster.

He nodded in the direction of the open door, granting you your leave.

You quickly rushed back up to your room and flopped angrily onto the bed. The thoughts of Victor's cruel words, his cold persona and everything you're going to have to endure filled your mind as you slowly drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning, you awoke slowly. The dream you were having while you slept gradually faded from your memory, leaving no trace behind. You groggily rolled out of the soft bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You kicked yourself mentally for falling asleep in your street clothes. Grabbing a fresh set of clothing from your dresser, you went into the bathroom to begin your day.

Clad in nothing but a soft, white towel, you returned to the bedroom after a long relaxing shower. A toothbrush tucked in the corner of your mouth as you dug through the dresser for a set of clothes. While on your way back to the bathroom, you spotted a folded piece of paper that had been slipped under your door. You plucked it from the floor and carried it into the washroom with the rest of your things. You glanced at it occasionally while you finished readying yourself for the day. Once dressed, you picked the note up and began to read it.

_I've gone to work. There will be stylists arriving throughout the day to outfit you with a more appropriate wardrobe. I know it may be difficult for you, but try to be courteous. Dinner is at 7._

_Victor_

_P.S. Please refrain yourself from examining my undergarments. There is a camera in my closet._

You crumpled up the note and tossed it into the waste bin nearby and shook your head. Your face flushed thinking back to the night before when you were exploring the contents of his closet.

"He's not even here, and he still manages to find a way to annoy me." You grumble to yourself.

You tied back your hair in a loose ponytail and decided to get something to eat.

Skipping down the stairs, you passed what appeared to be Victor's home office. You poked your head in to examine the room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the two side walls, a desk sat in the center facing away from the curtained window, and a laptop was left open on top of it. You contemplated snooping, but the sound of your stomach grumbling changed your mind.

The kitchen was sparkling with the morning sun shining brightly through the window. You checked every cupboard and the fridge searching for something quick to eat. During your exploration, you came across another set of stairs that went to a lower level.

"After breakfast, I'll check out the rest of the house." You said, grabbing a pan from the rack above the island.

You chose to make yourself some eggs and bacon. After eating, you did your best to scrub everything you used and return it to its proper place. You may not have liked Victor all that much, but you were a guest in his home, and you certainly weren't going to be a slob.

Now it was time to explore. The rest of the main floor offered just what you'd expect from the CEO. There was what looked like: a dance studio, a small in home theater, and a games room that probably hadn't been touched in ages. You slipped down the steps to what you were sure was the basement. There you found a bar and wine cellar, a gym and a full-size indoor pool. You gasped, peeking through the windowed glass surrounding the pool room. The blue water rippled invitingly from jets inside of it. You pouted, knowing you didn't have a swimsuit with you. Otherwise, you'd be dashing up the stairs to change.

You turned away to finish investigating the house just as the doorbell rang from above. You went back upstairs, to the front door and opened it to reveal Victor's assistant Goldman awaiting you.

"Oh good, you're up! Victor sent me to oversee things while he's busy at the office." Goldman smiled, pushing past you to enter the house.

"When will the stylist be here? I wanted to finish exploring." You said, shutting the front door.

"Not for an hour, but the aesthetician will be here in approximately fifteen minutes. Now, where's the best place to do this?" He asked.

His eyes scanned the interior of the house in thought.

"Wait, aesthetician?" You gaped at him, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Yes," he said, grabbing your hand to inspect your nails, "Victor would never be seen with such an unkempt woman."

You yanked your hand away and glared at him. He shook his head at you and began to lead you somewhere. You followed him back down the stairs you emerged from before, past the bar and pool room and found yourself in a small spa room.

"Wait here. I have to prepare the ballroom for when the stylists arrive." He said and quickly removed himself from the room.

"Stylists? As in plural? What is going on!" You yelled after him but received no reply.

Approximately ten minutes later, Goldman returned with three women in tow. You had never had a manicure or pedicure before, but you quickly understood why people had them done. You found the whole process relaxing as they massaged your feet and hands. Your eyes drifted to the third woman, who stood by separate door playing with her blond ponytail.

"She's ready for you." The redhaired woman who did your nails said to the blond and pulled you from the comfortable chair you sat in.

"Ready for what?" You asked, being ushered into a smaller room.

The blond requested you to remove your pants and lay on the long table in the center of the room.

"For what?"

"We've been requested to wax your legs. Mr. Lee's orders." She answered with a polite smile while checking the consistency of the wax.

You froze for a moment. You had gotten your legs waxed once, and you found it to be a horrible experience. A sigh drifted from you. You knew for the sake of your family you couldn't object.

*

Sometime later, you groaned loudly walking up the two flights of stairs to the ballroom. Goldman had come down while your skin was being violated (your words) by hot wax and told the aestheticians to send you there when you were done. Your legs burned with every step. Your face felt as though you might have been bleeding where they applied the wax. You grumbled to yourself about how there was no hair on your lip, and they were only insisting there was to embarrass you.

Inside the ballroom, you noticed the stage on the far wall for the first time. A large red curtain hung off to the side, suggesting it was covered when you were last there. Goldman led you to the backstage area where you found even more people awaiting you.

"You change here and come out to the stage when you're ready. I'll be sending pictures of the outfits off to Victor. He makes the final decision." Goldman said his piece and left.

Next thing you know you're covered in hands. Removing your clothes and slipping a dress over your head. Another pair of hands ripped off your socks and replaced them with a set of wedge heels. One of the people pushed you out onto the stage the second you were ready. There was a group of five people gathered in front of the stage, not including Goldman.

"I see we're starting with my collection." A short, squat woman with large thick glasses said to the man next to her.

"Lovely dress, darling, but those shoes are mine." The gaunt man replied.

You stood like a deer in headlights as the five stylists chatted in front of you. Goldman shooed you away after snapping a quick picture. The second you returned backstage, the hands began again. Pulling off the dress and shoes and replacing them with something else.

After approximately two hours of dressing, modeling, undressing, and redressing, you were finally done. You collapsed on a small loveseat backstage while the stylist's assistants went over the outfits with Goldman. One of them handed you a bottle of water that you happily chugged down. Many of the assistants were tasked with taking the chosen clothes into your walk in, while others were told to pack up the remaining pieces. Goldman quickly excused himself when the doorbell rang for the fourth time today. Moments later, he reappeared with four more people. Each carrying suitcases.

"Ready for more?" Goldman asked.

"More?!" You cried out.

Your mouth was still dry, your feet were sore, your head was pounding from all the commotion. All you wanted to do was take a nap at this point.

"Accessories. Shouldn't take too long and you won't need to move." Goldman explained as the first stylist moved to open the case he carried.

You gaped at the case full of glittering jewelry. There were necklaces, rings, earrings, even tiaras neatly pressed into the foam to keep them from moving and tangling together.

This was undoubtedly your most favorite part of your day. You felt like an actual princess having such beautiful adornment to model. You smiled brightly making poses for Goldman to send to his boss. Victor always replied immediately with his remarks on which pieces he wanted and those he didn't.

"Victor says to stop making weird faces in the pictures," Goldman told you roughly a half hour into your shoot.

"I'm not making weird faces! I'm trying to showcase the items." You snapped, waving the handbag you held at him.

"Please, just make this easier for both of us and do what he says?" The assistant begged.

You sighed and resigned to glaring at the camera for every picture taken henceforth.

"Are we done?" You groaned, ready to throw yourself in the pool.

Goldman glanced at his watch. "I have to get back to the office. You have another couple of stylists coming around four to get you ready for dinner."

Your stomach growled angrily at the word lunch. With everything happening you forgot it had been hours since you ate. You politely walked Goldman and the other guests to the floor door and bid your farewells. A yawn escaped you as you sauntered to the kitchen for a quick lunch. You settled on making yourself a sandwich then plopped yourself down in the private theater to watch a movie.

You don't even recall what you had put on as you had fallen asleep mere moments after it had begun. The sound of the doorbell ringing once more disturbed you from your slumber. You looked up at the screen ahead of you. It had already finished the movie and put itself in standby. The doorbell rang again. You stretched when you stood and shuffled back to the door. A man and a woman greeted you when you opened the door. You weren't exactly sure where to lead them, so they insisted on coming up to your room.

The man was tall, thin, and had fabulously long brown hair. He sat you in front of your vanity and began setting up his supplies. The woman, who was short and athletic, stood by asking questions.

"What exactly is the event tonight." She asked as the man threw a cape over you.

"Victor is taking me to dinner." You smiled.

You clued in that no one was aware of the contract between the two of you, aside from your family and maybe Goldman. It occurred to you that perhaps you should put on your acting shoes and practice.

"Do you know where?" She probed, looking out of the large windows.

"No, he's going to surprise me." You replied, trying your best to act like you were in love with Victor.

"Any requests on what you'd like done with your hair? I wish you had come to my salon, I'm quite limited on what I can actually do for you." The man said with a little inflection in his speech.

You thought for a moment. You didn't want to do anything too over the top since it was just dinner, but you also knew if you left it too boring you might get reprimanded from Victor.

"Can you give it a little trim? As for style, side-swept with the ends curled?" You asked, the smile you held on your face beginning to make your cheeks burn

"Sure thing, darling." He quipped and started moistening your hair with a spray bottle.

Forty minutes later, the hairstylist was just finishing your hair. He squirted some mousse into his hands and started scrunching up the curls to get them to hold.

You smiled at yourself in the mirror, loving the way your hair bounced and flitted around with every shake of your head. The hairstylist seemed pleased with your reaction and cleaned up his mess, making room for the makeup artist.

She came close to your face to examine you. During the course of getting your hair done, she had asked so many questions about Victor and your relationship with him, she now made you feel uncomfortable. Why was she so interested?

"I got it!" She snapped her fingers and began preparing your face.

You followed her every instruction; from closing your eyes to opening your mouth in just the right way. She praised you on being an easy person to work with. This woman could have possibly been the chattiest person you had ever met. You were simply floored at how much came spilling out of her mouth. For some strange reason, this woman decided to tell you her entire life story over the agonizing hour it took to do your face. She stepped away when she was done and turned you to the mirror.

"Wow." You breathed, hardly able to recognize yourself.

Not a hint of imperfection showed on your skin. No more pores showing, no dark circles under your eyes, no awkwardly red cheeks when you blushed, you hoped.  
.  
She gave you very soft, smokey eyes with a hint of pink along the edges and matching pink lip stain. You giggled at yourself in the mirror.

The two let themselves out as you admired yourself for a little bit longer. You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand and cursed. It was already half past six and you hadn't even chosen which dress to wear.

You scrambled to the closet and threw the door open. You stared at the rows of clothing. Should you go for something formal or semiformal. It was just dinner, but it was dinner with Victor. You couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Evenings were still quite cold, but you just since you just had your legs waxed, you felt the need to show them off.

You settled on a light pink, knee-length dress that was pulled together at the waist with a silver-ringed belt. You chose silver stilettos and clutch to match the belt. The jewelry box was at the back of your closet. You opened it carefully and scanned the glittering objects inside. You didn't want to wear anything too obnoxious so you settled on a white gold necklace with a teardrop shaped pink diamond and a pair of drop earrings that dangled down to your shoulders.

The second you were finally ready you heard the sound of his voice calling from downstairs. You took a slow deep breath to settle your nerves and stepped out of your room.

"Ready!" You greeted Victor from the top of the stairs.

He looked up at you as your heels clicked noisily on every step. You stopped in front of him and did a little spin.

"How do I look?" You asked with a smile.

His eyes slowly examined you from top to bottom before he abruptly turned away.

"Don't ask me ridiculous questions, we're going to be late." He grumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

You followed Victor outside to the company car. The driver stood by the back door waiting for the two of you. When he opened the door for you, he tipped his hat in his usual polite manner. You thanked the driver and settled in the comfortable leather backseat. Victor didn't wait for the driver to come around and open the other door for him. He climbed in and sat leaning against the door opposite you with his phone in hand. Shortly after the driver entered his seat, the vehicle roared to life. Slowly, he followed the looped drive towards the front gate.

"You never answered me. How do I look?" You pried, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment.

"If you put a pig in a dress, is it still a pig?" Victor replied, not looking up from his phone.

"Are you insinuating I'm a pig?" You turned to face him.

He turned the screen of his phone off and slid it into his pocket. The streetlights lit his face with a flash each time one passed. He turned away from your eyes, looking out of the window.

"I'm not insinuating." He growled.

You leaned forward so you could see the reflection of his features in the window.

"Pigs are cute, so jokes on you; that was a compliment." You teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"It's still cold out. You chose to wear a short dress and didn't bring a shawl." He replied while picking up a briefcase that had been sitting at his feet.

You watched as he squinted at the tiny combination lock, rolling his fingers over the digits to the correct code. There was a soft click, and Victor popped the lid open. He lifted the first stack of papers held together by a binder clip and tossed it onto the empty seat between the two of you.

"That's your new identity and backstory. Read it and memorize it." He said curtly, returning his gaze to the window.

You picked up the thick bundle of papers and flipped through it. It contained a new name, where you're from, information on your fake father's and his fake business. There was even a small blurb on how you and Victor supposedly met.

Victor shifted slightly, causing you to look up from the words before you. He extended his hand towards you. In it was a small ring box.

"Put this on. We're supposed to be engaged already." He said quietly.

You look down at the square, white, velvet-covered box and took it into your hands. The top of the box popped back with a ‘crack’ revealing the glittering ring inside of it.

“Holy, Jesus.” You breathed, looking down at the contents.

There sat probably the most expensive item you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You carefully pried the ring from the small groove it sat in and inspected it.

“It’s not a bomb.” Victor rolled his eyes at you.

“Is this real?” 

“Do you want to see the certificate of authenticity? Of course it’s real, you dolt.”

The car seemed to have begun to slow down, indicating they had entered the city limits. You held ring box up close to the window, so you could see it better with each passing streetlight periodically illuminating the inside of the car. It had a princess cut, large blue diamond in the center surrounded by smaller regular diamonds. The band itself was plain white gold. Victor grumbled something you couldn’t quite catch. He leaned over you, snatched the ring you held.

“I told you to put it on, not sit there and gawk at it.” He scolded.

You watched closely. He reached over you more, took your left hand gently in his, and slipped the ring onto your third finger. Your eyes drifted from your hand to his features. He looked up at you, his long eyelashes danced over his skin every time he blinked. His raven hair swayed with his movements as he returned to his position staring out of the window. He rested his elbow against the door, his long fingers curling under his chin. His lilac-grey gaze softened while his mind drifted elsewhere.

He may have been cold and aloof, but he sure was handsome.

The driver announced their arrival and slowed the car to a stop. You peaked out of Victor’s window. There was a crowd of people standing at the entrance of the chosen venue for your dinner. Most of them appeared to be dressed in casual attire, carrying large cameras and snapping pictures of the couples entering the establishment.

You unclipped your seatbelt and scooted closer to Victor to peek at the name of the restaurant. A gasp escaped you as you saw the name ‘Le Paon Blanc’. It was a notoriously popular restaurant for wealthy couples. In the center of the walk was a statue of a peacock carved from marble. Behind it, a fan of water burst forth resembling its tail spread wide.

“Nervous?” He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Not at all.” You lied and sat back.

The driver opened the back door and Victor stepped out first. Excited murmurs could be heard from the crowd as they stared at the young CEO. You shimmied into Victor's seat. He quickly corrected his suit and held his hand out towards you. You took one last shaky breath.

_ Time to act like little miss perfect fiance.  _ You thought to yourself, accepting his hand.

"Who's he with? I can't see!" One person asked.

"Is it Chik? Are they finally going public about their relationship?" asked another.

His fingers curled around the hand you placed in his. You looked up at his face and could have sworn you saw a gentle smile and soft eyes gazing back at you. When you blinked, the softness was replaced with his typical expression; leading you to believe it was just your imagination.

You stepped out onto the sidewalk. A hush fell over the crowd.

“Who is she?” One person said in the silence.

The excitement of the crowd grew once more, covering the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. You took a few steps forward. The driver shut the car door and tipped his hat politely at you. Victor leaned forward and brushed your hair off of your shoulder; his left hand still grasping yours.

"Don't look at the cameras." He said, just loud enough to hear over the excitement of the crowd.

"Okay." You whispered back.

Victor took his place next to you, curling his arm over yours; your hand nestled in the crook of his elbow. He led you around the fountain towards the doors of the restaurant. A cold mist from the fountain dampened your skin, causing you to shiver. The paparazzi yelled toward you both in an attempted to get one of you to look their way. You glanced up at Victor's profile. As if feeling your eyes upon him, he turned his head to you. He nodded in the direction of the doors, silently reminding you to keep your head forward.

Once you were safely inside the building, and the noise of the horde outside was effectively muffled by the doors, you released the breath you had been holding.

Victor pulled you past the line of parishioners waiting for open tables and up to the host's desk.

"Do you have a reservation, sir?" The man in the black suit standing behind the desk, looking down at a table map in front of him.

Victor cleared his throat, causing the host to look up.

"Please accept my apologies! We have your table prepared, sir. Please, follow me." The young man gasped.

He opened the set of white french doors adorned with frosted glass that set the entrance apart from the dining area. You clutched Victor's arm tighter, following the host through the dining area. Leading you past the customers seated along the wall in white velvet booths with adorned with metallic silver fittings; each separated by a high arched window. Weaving around the occupied tables, accompanied by white velvet chairs that dotted the center of the dining area. Passing under an enormous, low hanging, crystal chandelier that easily fit in the large room. finally arriving at a table at the back, nestled Between two of the thick, white columns that towered over the dining room encompassing it all. 

The host pulled one of the chairs out and motioned for you to sit; bowing his head in the process. You thanked the host and held the hem of your dress as you took your seat. Placing the clutch you held on the table, you took a quick glance around the beautiful room once more. Victor cleared his throat to get your attention. He nodded at your clutch and shook his head. You hoped the makeup on your face covered the redness of your embarrassment. Snatching the clutch quickly, you resigned to placing it on your lap beneath your napkin. You turned your sight back to Victor. He had his phone clutched in his hand. It chimed its simple shut down tune before Victor slipped it into his pocket once more.

"No distractions." He said.

You smiled at him as naturally as you could. It wasn't an easy feat pretending to be in love with a man you really couldn't stand, but for the sake of your family, you had to do it. You unconsciously played with the band of the heavy ring on your finger. To others, this ring might give them feelings of love, excitement, happiness, but to you, it felt awkward and foreign. It was nothing more than a painful reminder of your contract. Almost like shackles.

"Good evening, my name is Marcel and I will be your waiter tonight." A voice dragged you from your thoughts.

The waiter prattled on about the seasonal dishes and all of the specials. You took the menu that was handed to you, skimming through the different dishes they had to offer. Glancing over the top of the menu, you found Victor peering over the wine list. He ordered something, but because of the chattering patrons behind you, you were unable to hear what it was. The waiter politely took the wine list back and excused himself, giving the two of you time to select your dinner.

"Do you drink?" Victor asked, resting his menu to the side as if he already decided on what to order.

"On occasion, but never excessively." You replied, still staring at the menu; desperately trying to ignore the high prices listed.

Over the next few minutes, you and Victor only spoke about food. You still weren't sure what to order and everything you wanted Victor shot down stating "That doesn't pair with the wine I've ordered." The sommelier came and poured a bottle of white wine over his arm into the wine glasses set in front of your plates. He left as quickly as he came, leaving the bottle nearby. You resigned to letting Victor pick your dinner for you. 

While waiting for the food, you took another cursory glance around the room and noticed a few diners were still looking in your direction. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a moment to think nice thoughts about Victor; placing yourself in the role of his fiance. You reached across the table with your left hand and timidly placed it upon his. Victor rose one eyebrow curiously.

"Tell me, how was work for you, honey?" You asked sweetly.

Victor swallowed hard at the pet name and your sudden shift in personality.

"It was fine." He said curtly.

He turned his head away. It was then he realized why you were behaving the way you were.

"Tell me about yours," Victor said turning his hand over to curl his fingers around yours.

The action made you uncomfortable. It took everything you had not to recoil from his touch. You were sure, by the look in his eyes, that he felt the same.

The things we do for family.

"The usual." You spoke with a smile. "I've been waiting all day for this."

"Why is that?" He asked, removing his hand from yours to grab his glass.

You thanked whichever God was above that he took his hand away. 

"It's nice to get out every once in a while." You replied, taking a sip from your own glass.

The wine was warm and sweet; like it almost had a tropical flavor. Surprisingly, it didn't make your mouth feel dry like most of the wines you've tried before.

The conversation quickly died away. You couldn't just talk to him about anything. Asking the wrong question could easily shatter the facade of your relationship, and you couldn't tell how many people may be listening to you.

You kept your mind on happy thoughts to help keep up the appearance of a happy fiance. The rest of the dinner the two of you sat in silence which you didn't mind so much. Occasionally, you'd glance up at the man before you wondering what thoughts may be running through his mind. Every time Victor caught your eye, he'd give you an inquisitive look causing a heat to rise to your face again.

Finally, the end of the night came. Victor quickly squared away the bill. The waiter pulled back your seat giving you room to get to your feet. You followed the young CEO back through the dining area, catching the eyes of patrons who had not been there when you arrived.

At the door, Victor stopped and turned to you. He extended his arm to you and pressed his hand into your lower back. He removed his phone from his pocket with his free hand, turned the device on, and dialed his driver. At that moment, another young couple entered the building. A rush of cold air blasted from the outdoors making you shiver in your uncomfortable shoes. You held the clutch tightly and cautiously shifted closer to Victor's warmth. He peered down at you and shook his head.

"I knew you'd get cold. We're going to have to wait outside. It's too crowded in here." He said and moved towards the front door.

Soon, the two of you stood near the curb waiting for the driver to arrive in the company car. Paparazzi noisily yelled at the two of you, hurting your ears. Lights from their flashes blinded your eyes. You were cold, tired and still hungry, and having a difficult time keeping your composure. Victor removed his hand from your back, shimmied carefully out of his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

"Don't forget a shawl next time." He growled in your ear.

You thanked him and pulled the jacket tighter around you, taking in Victor's scent from it. 

_ Lucky for me, he's good looking and doesn't smell bad. I should focus on as many good qualities I can find in him. That'll help me play my role. _ You thought to yourself.

The car arrived removing you from your thoughts. The driver, of course, exited the vehicle and held the door open for you. You carefully slid into the car then onto the far seat giving Victor room to climb in, the driver shutting the door behind him. You jumped when you heard a loud banging on the window next to you. The driver rushed into the front seat as fast as he could but couldn't move yet.

"It'll be a moment before the nuts clear off." The driver muttered to himself, the whiskers of his white mustache wiggling as he spoke.

The sound of the shouts outside the car was nearly deafening. You instinctively scooted into Victor and buried your face in his shoulder. An annoyed sigh escaped him.

"Relax. Some of Chik's friend caught wind we were here and are causing an uproar. They'll back off once the car turns on." Victor said and pulled his shoulder away. 

"Okay. Sorry." You whispered and returned to your seat. 

"I'll take my suit jacket back now." He grumbled next to you.

"Would it kill you to be a little nicer every once in a while?" You asked, taking off the requested item and handing it to you.

"I treated you to dinner, didn't I?" He shot back.

You groaned and turned away from him.

Just as Victor had said, once the car started the people surrounding it quickly cleared off. You sat back in quiet contemplation.

_ Pretending to be in love with someone is not easy when we have absolutely zero chemistry.  _

You sighed and looked at Victor in the reflection of the window next to you. He was staring down at his phone.

_ I hate this so much. I want to be in control of my life. Not stuck playing house with some jerk, when I can be with someone who actually cares about me. _

You rested your head against the window and close your eyes. Between the hum of the engine and the vibrations of the car bumping along the roads, you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

*

You wake to the feeling of someone poking your arm.

“Hey, we’re here. Get up.” Victor said; his deep voice helping you rise from your slumber.

You stretched and yawned, looking over at the man next to you. The overhead light was on, signifying one of the doors in the car was open. The light cast a gentle glow over Victor’s features making him look softer than usual.

_ If only he were nicer.  _ You thought through the sleepy haze in your head.  _ That’s a face I really wouldn’t mind waking up to every day. _

You slid out of the car behind Victor and followed him to the front door of his house. The moment you stepped inside the house and slid your shoes off had to have been the best part of your day.

“Tomorrow your training begins. Get some rest.” Victor said, heading down the hallway to his office.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” You groaned and retire to your room.

Stripping off the fancy dress you wore and washing the makeup off of your face, was almost like removing yourself from your role. You pulled on a pair of pajamas you brought from home and curled up into the bed. You sighed once more hoping tomorrow brings a better day.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning you woke up to the sound of someone pounding on your bedroom door.

"Get dressed in comfortable clothing and meet me downstairs in ten minutes." Victor's muffled voice sounded through the wood.

You groaned loudly and glanced at the small alarm clock resting on the end table.

"You've got to be shitting me. It's five in the morning!" You yelled, hoping your newly appointed nemesis heard you.

You shuffled into the bathroom to start your day by washing your face and brushing your teeth, in an attempt to wake yourself. Next, you entered the closet to pick out an outfit for whatever Victor had planned. You stifled a yawn, slipping into a pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting white t-shirt.

"Grab a pair of running shoes too," Victor said through the door once again.

"I thought you were waiting downstairs?" You grumbled loudly and snatched a pair of runners from the line of shoes.

"It's been more than ten minutes. I assumed you went back to sleep." He replied.

You threw the door open and glared at him. He was leaning against the wall across from your door clad in a black A-shirt and grey sweatpants. A towel was loosely draped around his broad shoulders.

"Listen, bud, you can't expect me to be ready in ten minutes when it's five in the fuckin' morning!" You spat back.

Victor crossed his arms and looked you over quickly.

"What am I not dressed comfortably enough for your standards?" You asked venomously, and headed towards the stairs; not giving him a chance to reply.

He pushed himself off of the wall and followed you. At the bottom of the stairs, he waltzed past you and led you down the hall, passed the kitchen to a large sliding glass door. Not another word was uttered between you two. Judging by his somewhat messy hair and his darker than usual energy he was exuding, you surmised Victor was also not a morning person.

After your shoes were on, Victor opened the door. The air outside was so cold it was like a slap in the face. You shivered and hugged yourself, following the CEO to Gods knows where. Suddenly, a thought occurred to you causing you to freeze on the spot. Victor stopped and turned to you. In the dim light of the yard, you could just see his figure returning to you. White puffs of your breath masked his advancement, and before you knew it he was standing before you, glaring down at you.

“What the hell are you stopping for?” He growled, his voice still groggy.

“You’re gonna murder me aren’t you?” You breathed.

Victor raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s too early for this level of stupidity!” He said, his voice practically dripping with annoyance.

He spun away from you and started walking in the direction the two of you were heading in before. You took a deep shaky breath to calm your nerves. _Is it really unrealistic to think he could murder me out here?_ You thought to yourself as you ran through the dew-laden grass, trying to catch up with the man ahead of you.

After a few more minutes, he stopped at the edge of a very obvious small track that encircled a fenced-in tennis court. The moment Victor’s foot stepped onto the tartan ground, tall, bright floodlights clicked on, illuminating the rust-colored track. You closed your eyes tightly and turned from the sudden brightness.

When you reopened your eyes, you found Victor standing by the pole of one of the floodlights, doing some pre-run stretches. You blinked, allowing your eyes to adjust to the lights. Victor curled his slender fingers around his right foot and gently pulled it up to his rear. He kept his balance by pressing his other palm into the pole before him. The movements of his muscular arm drew your gaze to the curvature of his bottom; the pants he wore clinging to his muscular legs and butt. He lowered his leg and ran a hand through his mussed up hair. 

Victor turned to you, that same glint of annoyance still present in his eyes as he glared at you.

"Close your mouth, you look like a dog." He shot at you.

Your eyes widened at his words, not knowing your mouth was hanging open until then. The rush of blood to your cheeks made your face feel hot. Quickly, you turned from him to hide your embarrassment.

"You should stretch. I'm not going to go easy on you even if you get a cramp." His sour voice made you roll your eyes.

You did the best you could under the circumstances. The dew damp ground left dark wet patches on your bottom and legs from your attempt to stretch. Victor stifled his amusement that you would do something so idiotic as to sit on the obviously wet ground. Victor pointed to your starting place. 

"Every morning from now on you'll be waking up with me and jogging a mile." He explained, taking his place in the lane next to yours.

"Seriously? Every day? Do I get something out of it?" You whine.

"Breakfast." He said curtly and took a small stopwatch from his pants pocket. "And go."

Victor started on his jog, clicking the button at the top of the stopwatch simultaneously. You gasped and jumped when he took off without warning.

"How many laps?" You shouted at him as soon as you started moving.

Victor slowed his pace to match yours. The shoes the two of you wore squeaked quietly on the track from the dew coating the ground.

"Fifteen." Was all Victor said before speeding up again.

You groaned and cursed him under your breath.

The sun began to creep closer to the horizon, causing an almost grey-like haze over the area. The rays of light hadn't crept over but it was just light enough you could make out Victor's house across the manicured lawn. The footprints of your journey were still present in the grass, winding down a short hill.

On the other side, a forest lay along the edge of his property; presumably for privacy. Clouds of mist appeared to be slowly receding between the trees as the sun crept higher.

Large puffs of breath disappeared before you with every heavy pant you made. How long had it been since you last ran a mile? Not since high school, you were sure. The sound of Victor's footsteps closed in from behind. He was going to pass you yet again. You glanced at his figure as he passed. His posture, perfect as always with his straightened spine and his shoulders rolled back slightly making his chest push into the thin fabric covering it. The shirt lifting with every step, exposing a small strip of the toned body beneath it. You blinked rapidly and turned your gaze forward. A heat rose over your features, tinting your cheeks a soft shade of pink.

Every single time his body streaked passed, you followed him with your eyes. _Handsome, intelligent, athletic, an excellent cook._ You thought to yourself, unknowingly slowing your pace. _Damn near perfect if it weren't for his shitty attitude. Probably terrible in bed, or gay._

You stopped and placed your hands on your hips. A dull pain in your ribs had made the jogging difficult, but now that you had stopped the pain seemed worse. Trying to ease the pain, you double over. Your chest burned with every heavy gasp of breath, your legs felt weak and unsteady and your heart was pounding so fast you thought it might explode. A long shadow crept up next to you followed by the sound of a disappointed sigh.

"You only have three laps left, what are you doing?" Victor's deep voice called down to you.

"Cramp." Was all you managed to squeak out between the aches in your torso.

He sighed once more and pulled the stopwatch free from his pocket. Which an audible click he stopped the watch.

"I told you I wasn't going to go easy on you even if you got a cramp," Victor said, slightly more gentle than before. "Get yourself cleaned up and we'll have breakfast."

"No. I'm going to finish." You hissed at the pain that worsened as you stood.

Victor reached out toward you and curled his fingers around your wrist, preventing you from taking off. You turned to face him finding his eyes looked darker than usual from the shadows cast over his features.

"You're in no condition to continue. Let's go." He growled.

"But you said…" You started to speak.

"I know what I said. Make no mistake, this will not happen again." He growled his reply.

His fingers stayed clasped tightly around your wrist until he was satisfied you were coming along. You begrudgingly followed, still grasping the stitch in your side. The moment he was sure you wouldn't return to the track, he released his grip.

The sun had officially greeted the new day. While it was still low, there was a bright yellow streak along the horizon. The dew on the yard sparkled like hundreds of gemstones. Morning birds sang their songs and squirrels began scurrying around looking for their buried food.

In typical Victor fashion, the two of you silently approached the house and climbed the stairs to return to your own rooms. 

"You have forty-five minutes. Come downstairs for breakfast once you're ready."

You grumbled an agreement and shut the door. The first thing you did after entering the room, was throw your exhausted self on the bed. Your legs were tired, weak and very sore. The ache in your ribs had subsided to a dull throb every now again. You yawned and rolled over, glancing at the ring box sitting on your nightstand. It was only the second day here and you already felt done with his attitude.

Why did he have to be so cold and distant? If he actually attempted to be a nice guy this whole thing would be a lot easier. On the other hand, if he were a nice guy you might run the risk of actually developing feelings for him.

You shuddered at the thought, even though a warmth crept up your neck and settled on your cheeks. Pushing yourself back to your feet, you let out a huge yawn and shuffled into the bathroom to shower.

After getting yourself ready, eating the most delicious, fluffiest omelet you had ever had in your life, and an hour of proper dining etiquette (which Victor revealed will become wine lessons later on), you wanted nothing more than to spend some time lounging. The pool downstairs was still calling to you since you laid eyes on it yesterday.

"Are you paying attention?" Victor snapped at you causing you to jerk your head up.

The image of the calm, blue water lapping at the edges of the pool was replaced by Victor's sour face.

"Uh…" You groaned out, attempting to think of a good excuse as to why you had zoned out.

Victor sighed and closed his eyes tightly.

"Get the background my team put together for you and study it. I have more pressing matters to attend to right now." He repeated, but at a much slower pace like he was talking to a child.

You nodded and spat a sarcastic 'Yes, sergeant!' at him and scrambled off to your room once again.

Learning how to be a high-class citizen was a pain and Victor was not the nicest teacher you've had by a long shot. Your only reprieve at this moment was the thick bundle of papers you were given the night before. Reading was one of your favorite hobbies, and while this wasn't exactly a fantasy novel, it was still a story nonetheless.

"Elizabeth King, daughter of CEO of BRK Industries, Bartholomew R. King and Marie King. Father resides in Britain and mother was in Loveland until the day of her death." You read. 

It went into deeper details of your faux family history. Your paternal grandparents immigrated to Britain before your father was born. After earning a business degree, he chose to stay and build his business. He met your mother while she was on a sightseeing trip to London. Your mother single-handedly raised you, living off of the money your father sent each week until his business took off.

You never went to traditional private schools. Instead, private tutors were hired to teach you because you spent the majority of your childhood too ill to attend school.

You couldn't help but laugh at the plot holes whoever was writing this had tried to fill in.

There was a large number of pages on your father's business. You knew you needed to read and memorize them, but at the time being, all that boring mumbo jumbo was just going to put you to sleep.

The final blurb read: "Victor and Elizabeth met at a charity fundraiser BRK Industries threw last fall."

You made a face at the words. While the entire thing had gone into very specific details, it held absolutely nothing about the most important detail; how you two met. You grasped the piece of paper containing those words and scurried back downstairs to find and confront Victor about it.

It wasn't difficult to find him in his massive villa. The door to the office, normally shut tight, was left ajar. Victor's voice could be heard from inside the room. He didn't sound pleased whatsoever to be having the current conversation. You jumped when he slammed the receiver of his office phone onto its base.

Turning your head to the side, straining to hear what was going on on the other side of the door, it sounded as though Victor had taken a seat at his desk, but that was all you heard. After a few more silent seconds his voice rang out.

"Are you going to just stand there, or what?" His voice was darker than usual.

"It's nothing important, sorry for bothering you." You reply through the almost closed door.

Victor had been placed in a terrible mood by the phone call he had received, and you didn't feel inclined to stick around and incur his wrath. You briskly turn on your heel to retreat to your room once again, but the sound of his voice distinctly calling your name made you freeze. In the short amount of time you knew him, this man had never once called you by your name. He called to you again, his voice surprisingly gentle, or perhaps tired, you couldn't tell. You slowly faced the man behind you to find him leaning against the now-closed office door. Both of his hands were shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. His gaze flicked down to the paper in your hand.

"What did you need?" Victor asked.

"Um, I noticed the thing you gave me has very little information on how we met. That's going to be our most asked question about our relationship." You replied quietly.

Victor shifted his weight and took a few paces forward. He slipped the paper from your grasp and read the contents carefully. His face showed no expression as he scanned the line at least twice before handing the paper back.

"I need to take care of something at the office. While I'm away, extend this into a story. I'll be back in an hour." He muttered.

It was clear he had a bigger issue to deal with. You nodded at his words, staring at the paper you held. This was your chance to show Victor what you were capable of, and you had some big ideas.

Victor snatched a suit jacket from the front closet and left. You heard the mechanical click of the door locking behind him. An excited smile crept across your lips. Perhaps if you finished writing this fast enough, you could get the chance to take a dip in the pool.

You entered Victor's office to equip yourself with a pad of paper and a pen before scurrying into the living room nearby.

The room was well lit from the sun beaming through large windows facing the front of the house. A cream-colored loveseat adorned with dark wooden feet rested opposite them. You sat on it and dropped the notepad onto the glass table settled in front of the sofa. Bringing the end of the pen to your mouth in thought, you let your mind drift away. With your eyes closed tightly, head leaning against the back of the cushions, you imagined a beautiful ballroom filled with a sea of men in black suits and women in gorgeous gowns. You imagined spotting Victor from across the room. His long delicate fingers clutching the stem on a champagne glass as he spoke casually to another man.

Unbeknownst to you, a smile pulled at your lips as you thought of the handsome, raven-haired man locking his eyes on yours.


	6. Chapter 6

_ In the vast ballroom of [insert English hotel name] Elizabeth stood with her father near the stage. It was the first event she was ever allowed to attend since she spent most of her childhood too sick to travel to the UK. _

_ She felt awkward standing with her estranged father. While he was a kind and loving man, she never got the chance to get to know him since she lived on the outskirts of Loveland with her mother, and her father stayed in London building up his business. _

_ Today, he was hosting a charity event, or so he claimed. Elizabeth knew better. Her father wanted to retire and since Elizabeth knew nothing about the business, he wanted to marry her off to another elite in hopes they'd take over his business. _

_ The room was slowly filling with men and their dates. A majority of the guests were well-to-do businessmen with their sons looking to marry them off to her. _

_ Elizabeth kept a smile on her face as her father introduced her to the many guests that streamed in steadily. After twenty minutes they had only greeted a small percentage of the guests. Her face hurt from smiling and she felt winded from all of the talk she had had to do. Her father, sensing her patience dwindling, requested she take a break and get something for them to drink. _

_ Alcohol was something she had become quite accustomed to. It wasn't uncommon for her to have a glass of wine or two accompanying her dinner starting at a young age. _

_ Elizabeth politely excused herself from the conversation and made her way to the bar that took up a large portion of one of the walls. Even though she could have easily grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the waiters wandering the floor, she was craving something like a nice rosé. She rested her forearm against the bar, awaiting her turn to be served. Her eyes scanned the room full of beautiful women and handsome men. She was disinterested in those she had met so far. The Americans were too loud or too rude for her liking, the British were too pompous and proud. Most of the other guests, Elizabeth had a difficult time understanding their accents. _

_ She sighed to herself. Because she had spent her entire life sheltered, she wasn't too keen on being tied down to a husband. She wanted to travel and find her true calling in life. _

_ Her eyes scanned the room once more and fell on a tall black haired man who had just entered the room. He was young but his presence was powerful enough that those around him moved out of the way and bow respectfully at him. She noticed he didn't arrive with a woman on his arm nor a parent showing him off. He had arrived alone. Elizabeth quietly hoped to herself this man would approach her since it was unbecoming for a woman to approach a man herself. _

_ Her attention was pulled away before she could make eye contact with him. The bartender prompted her for her order. She smiled at him and asked for a rosé for herself and a scotch neat for her father. _

_ Elizabeth took the two glasses the bartender had handed her. Before leaving the bar she searched for the black haired man once more, but he was no longer in her view. She carefully navigated back to her father's side only to find the man she had been searching for was casually speaking to him. Her father, Bartholomew, who preferred going by Bart, thanked his daughter for the drink and introduced her to the man. _

_ After talking with him, who introduced himself as Victor, Elizabeth learned he was from the same city she came from. She was astonished he already had his own trillion dollar business at such a young age. Elizabeth quickly found herself enthralled with the man. His piercing grey eyes looking as though he could see through the wall she had put up since moving to the UK. _

_ Talking to him made her feel homesick. She never got to fully experience Loveland in all its glory. _

_ Throughout the rest of the night, whenever Elizabeth caught Victor's eye his gaze would soften ever so slightly. At the end of the evening, after most of the guests had departed Elizabeth heard the words she had been longing to hear from him since she first laid eyes on him. _

_ "Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?" _

_ She giggled and blushed at his proposition and agreed. _

_ Thus began the whirlwind romance between the young couple. _

_ * _

Your eyes fluttered open and spotted the cold stare of the man you had just been dreaming about. A smile crept over your lips, temporarily forgetting this Victor wasn't the one who had dreamt of. He scowled at your sleepy form and took the pad of paper from your hand.

"What do you think?" You asked after he had finished reading it.

"I've seen five year olds write better than this, and what is this 'insert English hotel name'?" He replied with a scoff.

"I don't know any hotels in the UK, and get a five year old to write a backstory about how you met your faux fiancé if it sucks so much." You shot back, getting to your feet.

Victor instinctively stepped back, giving you more space to stand. He flipped through the pages of the notepad once more, his eyes following each word carefully.

"Why did you write this like a 'love at first sight' piece? Do you know me at all?" He scoffed once more and thrust the notepad into your chest as if expecting you to rewrite something more befitting of his expectations.

"No, I don't know you. However, I can tell about you is that you won't start a long distance relationship with someone who you might only sort of like. This shit you gave me clearly said when her mother died she moved to London and didn't come back until the engagement." You huffed and shoved the notepad back at him. "This is the only way it works."

His eyes bore into your back as you stormed out of the room, but you didn't care. At this point you had had enough of his attitude. You hated how he acted like everything you said and did was the worst thing imaginable and he could do no wrong.

The sound of his slow and steady footsteps quickly advancing on you pulled you from your mind. You stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to glare at the man following you. Surprisingly, he didn't look angry, maybe slightly annoyed but you had gotten used to his face looking like that. Victor's eyes shifted from you to the pad of paper in his hands.

"You made your case. This will do." He said quietly, handing the notepad to you once more.

The sudden gentle nature of his presence threw you off guard. After all that had happened these past two days you felt the need to be on guard against his sharp tongue. You still hadn't forgiven him, nor your father, for putting you in such a lousy position, but the way he looked right now softened your opinion of him.

The door to his office was still open and a stream of light from the window inside of it spread across the floor. It hit Victor at just the right angle to give him an angelic looking aura around his usual menacing posture.

You accepted the notepad from him, and turned to hide the blush that was warming your face.

"Now, go grab a pair of heels and meet me in the dance studio in five minutes. We're behind schedule." Victor said with his demanding tone once more, shattering the gentle image in your mind.

"Ugh, for what?" You grumbled, holding onto the staircase railing against the wall; ready to run up the stairs and into your room.

"What do you think a dance studio is for, idiot? Dance lessons! Go!" He growled and walked down the hallway and out of sight.

You cursed under your breath, stomping up each step to your room as an act of defiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is busy so sorry if this chapter is full of glaring errors.


	7. Chapter 7

With a pair of heels dangling from your curled fingers, you begrudgingly returned to the main floor and made your way to the dance studio. You pushed opened the door and spotted Victor in the center of the floor. His jacket and tie were hung on one of the bars lining the mirrored walls. The top few buttons of his dress shirt were undone enabling his body to move more freely. He plucked at the button on the cuff of his sleeve, and pulled it up exposing his muscular forearm to match the other sleeve that had already been done.

You stood in the doorway for a moment taking in the sight before you. There was no doubt about it, you were attracted to this man. While his cold demeanor and rude personality rubbed you the wrong way, you were secretly thankful for it as it kept you from becoming emotionally attached. On the other hand, if given the chance, you most definitely wouldn't say no to any possible bedroom fun with him.

Victor's eyes flicked up to you and then down to the shoes you carried.

"You're going to dance in those? You should have picked something with a larger heel." He grumbled and beckoned you forward.

"I can go get another pair of it pleases you." You bit back with a lot of attitude in your tone.

You entered the room and sat near Victor on the floor. The heels you chose were white that had a single strap over the peek-a-boo toes, and another around the ankle to secure them to your foot. Victor scoffed once more at your choice in shoes but kept any other comments to himself.

He watched impatiently as you carefully got your your feet and steadied yourself. A breath caught in your throat when Victor quickly closed the gap between the two of you. The smell from his strong but not overpowering cologne washed over your senses. A familiar warmth arose over your face as he cupped your right hand in his left and pressed his other hand to your shoulder blade. You brought your left hand and placed it shyly on his shoulder near his neck. Victor rolled his eyes and shrugged the shoulder you had placed your hand on.

"This isn't a middle school dance, move your hand to the outside of my shoulder." He grumbled.

You complied with a glare in return. His grip on you was firm but not tight, keeping you in place. 

Victor began verbally telling you the steps to a simple box step before executing the move immediately after. You mentally thought out each move: _ Right foot back, left foot back and to the side, feet together, left foot forward, right foot forward and to the side, feet together.  _

He took the moves slow, giving you the right amount of time to adjust until moving onto the next step. Occasionally, Victor would snap at you when he noticed your gaze drifting down to your feet. The hardest part, you found, was keeping your eyes locked on his steel grey eyes. They were dark, with not a single hint of emotion behind them. Your mind began to wander.

Why was he so robotic? Did he find anything enjoyable or amusing, or did he see everything as some sort of work?

Every single time you stopped focusing on what you were doing you found yourself stumbling over your feet or tripping over Victor's. Each time, he reprimanded you and scolded you for spacing out. But no matter what he did or said, your mind still took you away.

The final time, your eyes drifted to his pink lips and you found yourself wondering what his kisses felt like. You imagined his kisses would be the opposite of how he presented himself. He took such good care of his physical self, his lips were probably soft. He definitely seems like the type of guy who would surprise you with slow, sensual kisses instead of rough rushed ones.

It became apparently you had reached the end of Victor's patience. You yelped in surprise when you found yourself dipped backwards, his lower abdomen pressing into your hips, his left foot extended to keep his balance. The hand he had placed on your shoulder blade was now resting on your lower back. While not the standard way of dipping during this particular style of dance, it was effective on garnering your attention back to him. His eyes darkened with annoyance as his stare bore into you. He brought his face closer in an assertive way, close enough you could feel his breath dancing over your neck.

Your face was warm and probably looked like a tomato but you kept your eyes locked on his in defiance.

"Now that I finally have your attention, we're going to try this with music." Victor growled in a deep voice

"Victor," You mused in a singsong way, a sly smile creeping over your lips. "Since we're fake engaged and all, are we going to have to kiss?"

Victor broke his stoney expression for a split second, long enough for you to notice but not long enough for it to be clear what face he made. With one quick motion, Victor released his grip on you. Your clawed at his shirt in an attempt to keep yourself from careening backwards onto the floor but it was no use. Your fingers slid off of his shirt as if it were butter and you landed with a loud thump on the floor. You looked up at the man, ready to ream him out for intentionally dropping you when you noticed he had turned away from you. You smirked at the pink tinged ear you could see and decided to make the most of it.

"Woe is me!" You cry out, throwing your arm over your eyes in an attempt to be as over dramatic as possible. "My own fiancé won't kiss me!"

"End the dramatics, idiot, and get on your feet." Victor grumbled.

You peaked over your arm curiously to find Victor was still facing away from you, and digging for something in his pants pocket. Once he located the item he was fishing for, he removed his hand and pointed the small silver object at the stereo sitting against the far wall. Soft music began floating through the speakers around the room. You got to your feet and found Victor had returned to where he stood before and was ready to begin. As soon as the two of you had your hands in the proper positions, Victor started to move without warning. You gasped, startled by his readiness and found it was difficult getting back on track after starting so suddenly. Victor kept his eyes trained on the mirrored wall behind you, almost as though he was purposely avoiding your gaze. Dancing along with the beat of the music was far more difficult than you originally anticipated, and you felt like Victor was just pulling and pushing you through the steps rather than you doing them yourself. You could tell he was getting increasingly annoyed with your mistakes, stumbling over your already sore feet.

Just one wrong step was all it took for you to go crumbling down to the floor a second time that afternoon; this time nearly taking the man down with you. Victor regained his balance, which kept him from toppling down on top of you. You winced looking down at your left ankle. The strap was still intact over your toes, but the heel of your foot had slipped off to the side.

"I should have worn thicker heels." You groaned, carefully unbuckling the clasp of the shoe from around your ankle.

Victor flashed a cocky 'I told you' smirk and knelt on the floor to examine your injury.

"It's just a sprain." You said to him, calmly. "Do you have ice? Or frozen peas I can put on it?"

Victor met your eyes and cocked an eyebrow at you.

"There's an ice pack downstairs. Wait here." He said, with a very slight difference in his usual tone.

Victor returned after a few moments and handed the blue cotton fabric bag, decorated with little white snowflakes to you. You grabbed the plastic lid and placed the bag against your sore ankle. Victor glanced at his watch and then his phone. You couldn't tell if he was just checking the time on two different devices or if he was impatiently waiting for something to happen.

"Sit with me a moment." You said, looking back down at the bag of ice in your hand.

Victor shuffled from foot to foot before resigning to the floor like you had asked. You weren't sure what had compelled him to sit on the floor with you. Was it concern for your injury? Maybe it was guilt from your fall since he had pushed you beyond your capabilities.

He leaned back on his hands, kept one leg outstretched and the other bent. A silence fell over the two of you for a short while. You resigned to being the one to start a conversation.

"Victor, can I ask you a question?" You asked, staring down at the ice bag on your slightly swollen ankle.

"As long as it isn't a stupid question, go ahead." He retorted, watching you closely.

"If you could have a super power what would it be?" 

You turned to face him, trying to read his stoic expression. He looked at you for a while, contemplating your question and blinked a few times. He took the remote from the stereo from his pocket once more and clicked it off, filling the room with an even more uncomfortable silence.

"Why?" He breathed, bending his straightened leg and sitting up straight.

You shrugged and relaxed, returning your gaze to the cold object on your foot.

"A long time ago a friend of mine asked me. It was high school so I said it'd be pretty cool to freeze time so I had more time to do homework." You laughed and shook your head.

Victor took the ice bag from your hand and checked the contents inside before returning it.

"What about now?" 

"I still think pausing time would be pretty cool. Give me a chance to really appreciate those little moments we all seem to miss." You say with a smile, thinking back to look if concern that had flashed across Victor's features the moment you injured yourself.

You turned from the man next to you. His unwavering grey gaze was beginning to make you feel self-conscious. For some reason, you felt a lot more comfortable around him when you were in the role as his fiancé and not as yourself, even though you had only played that role once so far, and it was awkward as hell.

A loud grumble from your stomach coaxed his eyes away from you to his watch.

"Can you walk? I'll get lunch started." Victor stood and extended his hand towards you.

You accepted his help getting to your feet after removing the heel from the uninjured foot. Biting your lower lip when his long fingers curled around your smaller hand, you stepped carefully onto you left foot to test it. The pain had subsided to a dull throb, making it so you could hobble along with Victor leading the way to the kitchen. He kept your hand clasped gently in his, just in case.

Victor left you seated along the little island as he began to whip up a small lunch for the two of you. If there was anything you would miss when all this was over, it would be the food. He began by pulling a few items from the fridge and washing some of them in the sink. From your position it was difficult to see what he was planning on making since he had his back to you most of the time.

"If I meet anyone with the ability you described," Victor started, returning to the previous conversation and keeping his attention in front of him, "I'll introduce them to you."

"If only." You laughed and tried to peer around him to see what he was cooking.

Some sort of leafy greens had been placed in a large mixing bowl and set aside after he completed washing them. While you couldn't see it, you could hear him chopping something. You stayed silent the rest of the time he spent placing what looked like cherry tomatoes on a baking sheet and throwing them in the oven.

Finally, the lunch, roasted tomatoes and almonds nestled perfectly on spinach topped with feta cheese and drizzled with some sort of vinaigrette was served in cute white bowls. You eagerly pulled the bowl to you and relished in the taste of the meal prepared for you. Victor shook his head at your voracious appetite, enjoying his own bowl at a much slower pace.

"So, wanna tell me what happened at work today?" You asked after you finished your food, rubbing your now full and satisfied stomach.

Victor took the dishes from the counter and began cleaning up.

"Chik saw the tabloids and showed up at the office. I had to call security to remove her." He replied with a shrug.

"Wait, she already saw them?" You gasped.

"Hard to miss, your stupid grin is plastered on every gossip magazine in the country."

After Victor finished tidying the kitchen, he pulled his phone from his pocket, slowly navigated the device and handed it to you. There you saw some of the many pictures the paparazzi had taken the night before with a small article written underneath.

"LFG CEO spotted at ritzy restaurant accompanied by an unknown woman sporting a sizable engagement ring." It read.

You groaned swiping through the pictures multiple times. From the outside, the two of you sure did look like a couple. The picture that caught your attention the most was captured not long after you had exited the vehicle. His hand on your shoulder and face brought close yours. It was the moment he told you not to look at the cameras. While the entire exchange was an innocent one, the photos made it look like the paparazzi had caught an intimate moment between a young couple in love.

You hasilty pushed the phone back into Victor's hand and excused yourself. The surrealness of the situation you were in and the weight of the burden you carried suddenly hit you. This wasn't a vacation, this wasn't a job. Your livelihood was at stake and while you had known that from the beginning it hadn't sunk in until that moment. Those pictures, and realization that Chik was left heartbroken without any word from Victor was too much to handle at the time being. Lessons be damned, you needed time to process everything that happened and everything that was going to happen from that moment on.

You hurried towards the kitchen door hearing Victor's voice call out.

"Take the remainder of the day to recover from your injury. We will resume the lessons first thing in the morning."

You nodded solemnly at it words and retired to your room for the rest of the night.


	8. Chapter 8

A few weeks had passed since Victor's grueling lessons began. He had given you a little bit of flexibility with exercise and dance lessons due to the injury you sustained on the first day, but every other lesson he seemed to press you harder to learn. Every night he quizzed you on your faux family history, silently nodding when you answered correctly, but glaring coldly at you when you were wrong.

Today, however, it was time to put some of the lessons into practice. Victor had kindly invited you to the opening night of some new show at the theatre, allowing you to rub elbows with Loveland's elite citizens. Victor made it clear you'd only have a short window of time before the show, during the intermission, and after it ended to impress other attendees. He also was quick to point out that many people would be watching her every move for any sign that their relationship might not be what it seems. Chik had many loyal friends looking out for her. Friends who would go above and beyond to sabotage "Elizabeth" at any given moment.

The same two stylists were hired to do your hair and make up for the event. The man with the long brown hair squealed with excitement when you requested a tight french twist. This time you were prepared for their questions as he tugged the hair into place and sprayed a generous amount of hairspray over every inch of your updo. He adorned the seam of the twist with bobby pins containing white pearls on the ends while the athletic woman busied herself applying makeup to your face. She had given you the perfect smokey eyes and neat eyebrows topped off with bright red lipstick.

You thanked the two as Goldman politely escorted them away. The assistant gave you an exasperated look and ushered you back to your room insisting you had to finish getting ready. He had been tasked with keeping you free from any distractions while quizzing you on your lessons through the closed door.

The man clearly held a certain level of distrust towards you and was very open about his concerns that you would ruin his bosses near perfect reputation.

You examined your ensemble in the mirror with glee. The champagne-colored, off the shoulder, backless sheath style dress looked quite flattering on you. It accentuated your curves flawlessly; combined with the expertly styled hair and makeup, you looked and felt like the woman you were expected to portray. A double looped pearl necklace with matching earrings and bracelet, stiletto round toe pumps and a clutch that matched the color of your dress was all you needed to pull the entire outfit together.

"If you're not downstairs in five minutes, Victor will have my head!" Goldman groaned through the door.

"Hold your ponies, little boy. I'm coming out!" You shouted back at him.

You opened the door and smiled at the red-faced assistant. He took a few steps into the wall and stammered incoherently. His eyes followed your curves to your toes and back up a few times.

"Th-that's too much!" He squealed, following you down the steps.

"It's not too much for a grand opening at the opera," Victor called from the bottom of the steps.

You smiled at the man standing at the last step awaiting your arrival. He replaced his typical work suit with a more formal one; now sporting a white button-up dress shirt and a black vest over top. Victor busied himself buttoning the middle button on the tailor-made suit jacket he wore as you made your way carefully down the stairs; the heels on your feet clicked with each step you took. When you reached the bottom, Victor scanned over your ensemble them flicked his grey eyes up to Goldman, who was coming down behind you.

"Goldman, fetch Miss... Elizabeth a shawl and the engagement ring she conveniently forgot to put on." Victor said coldly, pausing before saying your fake name like it was still foreign to him.

Goldman spun around quickly and sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time. You continued your descent, taking your place next to Victor.

"You don't look too bad tonight." You said politely, secretly fishing for a compliment from the handsome man.

Victor shoved his hands into his pant pockets and leaned against the wall.

"It appears your lessons have started to finally sink in." He muttered, avoiding your eye contact.

You turned towards the sound of Goldman rushing down the stairs.

"Shawl and ring, Victor, sir." He said, stopping at the bottom step and holding both objects out to you.

You took the shawl first and wrapped it around your shoulders, crossing it over your front. Victor clicked his tongue in disapproval. He ran his fingers over your collarbone, pushing the loose fabric off of your shoulders. Another blush settled on your cheeks as his expressionless eyes examined the chiffon draped around your back and over your arms. Victor took the ring from his assistant and lifted your left hand, slipping the ring onto the appropriate finger.

"How dense do you have to be to forget this?" He grumbled, dropping your hand and turning away.

"It was a mistake, it won't happen again." You mutter back, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"If you have any working brain cells, this wouldn't have happened at all." Victor shot back, ushering you and Goldman out of the house and to the waiting car.

You decided to keep quiet. Victor had been in an even worse mood than usual when he returned from work. There was no way to confirm your suspicions but you assumed Chik might have something to do with it. Even Goldman wouldn't speak up about what was wrong.

During the drive, you continued to stay quiet. Victor and Goldman, who was instructed to sit in the front seat while you and Victor sat in the back, conversed idly about the CEO's upcoming busy schedule. You stared out of the window at the passing landscape. The closer the car got to the city, the less extravagant the houses became. From large mansions on plots of rolling acres to single-family homes with inground pools to homely bungalows with yards so small they could hardly fit a back deck on it. When the driver slowed the speed at which you were traveling, you knew you were entering the city limits. You turned your attention to Victor once his conversation with Goldman was over.

"Victor? Can you tell me about my father's business deal? He never told mom or me anything about it." You asked, timidly, worried about fueling his rage.

Victor inspected you for a moment, perhaps contemplating whether or not it was worth attempting to explain to you.

"I'll give you a quick synopsis of what happened. Your father came to me with a business idea. I gave him a small start-up loan. The business took off rather quickly and when your father returned to me to pay what he owed, I offered him a larger loan to expand. You father had gained quite a few investors in the weeks before expanding. Unfortunately, the recession hit and most of those investors began asking for their money back, with the interest they had originally agreed upon. Your father chose to cancel the expansion of the company and returned the money to every other investor except for yours truly." Victor explained, speaking slowly and clearly like you were a mere child.

"Why did he pay the other investors first?" You pressed for more details, ignoring the way he was speaking to you.

"Let me put it this way if you had one hundred dollars and you owe one dollar to one hundred friends and one hundred dollars to one friend; would you pay off the one hundred friends you owe the least amount to or the one friend you owe a lot to? Your father made the right choice. Paying the other investors off first, made him look good, which means they would be more receptive to investing into his ideas again in the future, should he choose to make another attempt at owning a business. I would have done the same thing." He said.

Victor took the vibrating phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and grimaced at the screen. You watched him closely, contemplating everything he had told you. Guilt soon followed. For the last few years, your relationship with your father had crumbled. You had blamed him for ruining your family, only to find out that it wasn't his fault at all. He did what he thought was best for you and your mother. Victor grumbled next to you as his phone began to go off again.

"What's wrong? Work stuff?" You asked, leaning over slightly to look at his phone screen.

"It's nothing." He replied, turning the screen off and tucking it away in his pocket. 

Victor looked at you for a moment before taking out another cell phone from the opposite pocket and handed it to you. You studied the light pink case.

"What's this?" You asked.

"I realized you had no way to contact me when I'm at work, nor your parents. Your father came to my office asking about you today. This was the best solution I could think of since you can't see them until this is over." He shrugged and looked away.

You smiled and turned the screen on. The phone had already been set up but the contacts list only contained the two profiles Victor had mentioned. You opened the camera application and faced it at Victor. He glanced at the phone, cocking his head slightly towards you as you snapped the shutter button. You admired the shot; a streetlight had lit up his features making him look softer. There was a look of curiosity in eyes that made you smile.

"Why'd you take a picture of me?" He asked with a growl.

"I needed to christen my new phone. Plus, since you're my fiancé and all, it's only fitting I fill the camera with pictures of you." You smirked and saved the portrait as your background and waved the object at him.

"You're incorrigible." Victor sighed and returned to looking out of the window.

"You're one to talk!" You scoffed.

Just a few minutes later, the car had arrived at its destination. A red carpet had been run from the entrance down to the curb where the guests were being dropped off. Being opening night, the majority of the guests were Loveland's elites alongside many well-known stars and idols. The carpet was lined with a velvet rope, holding fans and paparazzi from getting in the way. You held your breath and stepped out of the car behind Victor. A strange deja vu feeling of your first night out as Victor's fiancé absorbed you. You wrapped your hand around his elbow and kept your eyes trained forward, entering the establishment with Victor. 

Quite a few curt handshakes and introductions were done once inside. The identity of the woman you were portraying had become the most popular topic that evening, the moment the two of your stepped foot inside the theatre. You breathed a thankful breath when it was revealed the show would be beginning soon and all guests needed to take their seats. Victor quietly revealed to you that he had planned to show up shortly before the starting time. He led you up a grand staircase and through a set of double doors onto a balcony that overlooked the stage. You sat comfortably in one of the two chairs there, giving you and Victor privacy from the rest of the attendees.

The two of you sat quietly through the first act. You had never been to an opera before. The music, the story, the sets, everything pulled you into the show. You were mesmerized by the amazing dance sequences and astounding voices of the actors. Occasionally, Victor's gaze would fall on you, only to go unnoticed.

During the intermission, you found yourself alone on the balcony. Victor had excused himself to speak with some other businessmen he had introduced you to earlier in the evening. Only moments after he left you heard the curtain hiding the door behind you rustling. You turned, expecting to be greeted by the sour mouthed robot you live with, only to find a black-haired woman, roughly your age, wearing a skin-tight black dress. You had met her that night and remembered she was introduced as the wife of a very elderly man. She took the empty seat beside you and turned her dark blue eyes to yours.

"I'm onto you." She said with an air of confidence around her.

"I'm sorry, I don't follow." You replied, attempting to keep your nerves calm.

"You're like most of us, right? Pretty little thing trying to break out of the slums by marrying a rich man? You don't act like the typical bourgeoisie brats I've met." She spat.

"You have it all wrong. My father is the CEO of a well off business in London. However, I was very sick as a child and wasn't able to attend any social events, not even school." You replied.

This was your moment to get your story off of the papers Victor had given you, and into the ears of the people you needed to convince. It was extremely important to keep the story straight no matter who you talked to. One small slip up could bring the entire project crashing down.

The woman glared at you, her eyes inspecting every inch of your face and outfit as if she was looking for imperfections.

"Might I request your name?" You smiled gently.

"Thelma." She answered sharply.

"You're a friend of Chik's, aren't you, Thelma? You're here to find out everything you can about me."

Thelma shifted in her seat. She nervously played with the clutch on her lap; her eyes cast downwards.

"I understand your position. You're loyal to your friends. That's a wonderful quality." You said, reaching out and patting her hand comfortingly.

Thelma's head shot up. Her eyes still lit with suspicious and doubt.

"If you and Victor are truly together, how come he doesn't act like it?"

The question caught you off guard. Your throat felt thick and you found it becoming increasingly difficult you swallow. You attempted to hide your emotions by letting out a soft chuckle. You closed your eyes and thought of Victor and what he might say if he were in this position. A small sweet smile pulled at your lips.

"You know how Victor is, he tries very hard to hide how he feels, especially in the public eye." You finally spoke, opening your eyes and meeting hers.

Thelma eyed you curiously and stood. The aura around her had relaxed. It appeared that she had accepted your answer. She bowed politely and excused herself.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Thelma. I hope we can speak again soon." You said after her.

Victor returned soon afterward. You leaned close to his shoulder and discussed the strange conversation you had with Thelma. The discussion managed to last through most of the second act because you kept getting distracted by what was happening on stage.

"I'm just saying, Victor. If this is going to work you need to try to act like a man in love. You have been in love before haven't you?" You asked, keeping your eyes trained on the fantastical dancing on the stage.

Silence from the man beside you was all you were given.

"Oh, well." You bit your lips in thought. "Just do little things like, turn your body towards me when we're in a group, smile when I talk, laugh at my jokes, whenever we're apart for whatever reason follow me with your eyes. Things like that will convince them, I'm sure." You said and turned to face him, finding him glaring at you.

"Smile and laugh?" He cocked one eyebrow.

"Those are just examples. You'll figure it out. I just don't want to see this whole thing explode in our faces just because you're a Goddamn robot." You groaned and shook your head.

After the show, an after-party was held at a ballroom in the hotel next to the theater. As much as you tried to convince Victor to skip the party, you just couldn't sway the stoic man. He stressed the importance of meeting Loveland's finest and making connections. You desperately wanted to roll your eyes and say 'screw connections' but you knew you couldn't.

With a smile plastered to your face, you entered the ballroom with Victor. Before you even had a second to examine the room, a gaggle of young women tore your from Victor's arm and began pulling you to the other side of the room. You turned to Victor, silently pleading for help, only to get a wave of good luck as he retreated to the bar where the vast majority of the men were. Almost immediately, the group of women began their barrage of questions. You answered as many as you could while skillfully ignoring any of the ones that pertained to Chik. The women became increasingly more impatient with your reluctance to answer certain questions.

"Do you realize, at one point Victor was seeing both you and Chik at the same time, right?" A tall, tan, blonde asked.

You froze and stared at her. In all of the stack of papers, you were given it never crossed your mind that Victor had had some sort of relationship with Chik when he was supposedly corresponding with you. You stuttered a little bit, attempting to come up with some sort of answer.

"She probably didn't know." A quiet voice from the back of the group called out, it was Thelma.

Thelma flashed you an apologetic smile. It became apparent that the group of women had planned much more than just hounding questions. You turned your attention to one of the younger ones in the group. She had left for a while on the pretense of getting drinks for everyone. You closed your eyes and sighed, fully expecting what was coming next. The woman carrying the drinks stumbled as she approached and the four glasses she carried spilled from her hands; ejecting its contents onto you and your dress.

"I'm so sorry." She said with a laugh, turning towards her friends. "I'm sorry, I spilled all of our drinks."

You took a deep breath, excusing yourself from the group. You walked as calmly and as quickly as you could out of a side door that led to a small enclosed garden. Snapping open your clutch, you pulled out a small handkerchief and began to dab at some of the areas on your garment.

"I can't take you anywhere." A familiar deep voice called out to you from the open door.

"Yes, I purposely poured multiple drinks down my dress for shits and giggles." You growled back, no longer able to keep up the role of Elizabeth for the time being.

You turned to face the man behind you, finding him shutting the sliding glass door; cutting off the sounds from inside. Through the glass window, you could easily make out the women responsible pointing, whispering and laughing in your direction.

Victor took your hands and pulled you out of the shadows so he could inspect the damage.

"They did this?" He asked jerking his head in the direction of the girls.

You nodded and bit your lip. Everything that had happened up to this moment felt like you were stuck in a bad teen romance movie. Like Victor was the captain of the football team and someone dared him to turn the nerdy girl, you, into a prom queen. You scoffed at your imagination, knowing those movies always ended with the two protagonists realizing their love for one another, and that just wasn't going to happen to you.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, glancing down at the wet spot dripping down your dress.

"It's fine, we knew Chik's friends would do whatever they could to break me. I can handle this." You said quietly.

"There is something we can do to fix this. You mentioned before I wasn't acting the way I should." Victor said, shifting his gaze to the clear, the star spotted skies above.

"So what's the plan then?" You asked.

Victor took a step closer, pressed one hand to your lower back and tipped your face towards his with the other.

"This may convince them." He said in a hushed whisper and brought his face to yours.

At that moment, your senses felt heightened. The feel of his soft lips between yours, the smell of his aftershave, the sound of your blood rushing through you with every heavy pound of your heart. You pressed your hand to his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart through your fingertips. It was the kind of kiss you had only read about and never believe truly existed, the kind of kiss to end all kisses, the kind of kiss that wasn't rushed, or awkward; the perfect first kiss. A sudden foreign warmth swelled from your bosom, spreading through your body like a flood of fire in your veins.

Victor pulled away slowly, his eyes, softer than before, darted back and forth searching yours. You brought your hand to your lips, attempting to lock in his warmth before it melted away. A gentle pink blush rested across his features to the tips of his ears.

You could have fallen for him there, outside in the brisk evening air, if only he hadn't opened his stupid mouth.

"Let's get you home before that stain sets and ruins the dress." He said in his usual curt tone.

You glanced into the ballroom and found the group of women staring at the two of you with looks of shock and surprised on each one of their faces. Victor called the company car, slid his hand off of your back and grasped your hand lightly. He led you through the small path that went around the building to the front where the car was already waiting.

After some time, sitting in awkward silence, Victor spoke up.

"I want you to know, if anything happens while you're working for me, you can come to me about it." He said, keeping his eyes trained on the window.

"Thank you, Victor." You smiled, taking his hand that was resting on the seat between you and gave it a little squeeze. Victor looked at you and rose a curious eyebrow but kept his hand where it was.


	9. Chapter 9

For the better part of two weeks, you felt as though Victor had been avoiding you. You hadn't seen him, nor had he replied to any of the texts you occasionally send. Three times a day, every day, Goldman would come to the house with a simple meal.

During that time you practiced the teachings Victor has taught you, poured over your background attempting to memorize every minute detail, and even went so far as to watch makeup and hair tutorials on the internet so Victor wouldn't need to hire the stylists whenever there was an event.

The worst part of this contract was the lack of socialization you had gotten to do. It was going on six weeks since the night you had moved in and you had only been out of the house twice. The only people you could talk to were Victor, Goldman and your parents, who were also sworn to secrecy. You would have given anything just to get an afternoon hanging out with one of your old friends but that wish was too farfetched. The fewer people who knew about your secret identity the better.

A clatter from downstairs caught your attention. You hastily turned off the video you were watching on your mobile phone and crept as quietly as possible out of your room. In your boredom, you came up with a satisfying way of entertaining yourself. Whenever Goldman came to deliver your food, you did everything in your power to sneak up behind him and scare him. Not once have you failed and each time he let out a shrill, embarrassing scream.

Guiding yourself around the creaky floorboards that you memorized, you managed to silently make your way down to the main floor. Victor's study door was left ajar, signifying someone was in there. You pushed the door open just enough to slip through the crack. Your victim had his back to you, hunched over the desk, shuffling papers around.

"What are you doing?" You said loudly, expecting a shrill scream.

"I'm working idiot. What else would I be doing in here?" Said the man in a deep voice with a tone of annoyance.

"Victor?" You breathed, taking a few paces back.

"Let me guess, you thought I was Goldman? I heard about you terrorizing him." He said, standing up straight and turning to face you. You averted your gaze, suddenly remembering the night of the opera. The way his steely eyes appeared to be a deep blue reflecting the darkened sky. The feel of his long fingers curled around your chin. His warm steady breath dusting across your cheeks as he drew closer.

You shook your head to vanquish the image in your mind. It was nothing but a simple kiss to persuade the nonbelievers that Victor and Elizabeth were a couple and not a marriage of convenience. A hot, weak in the knees sort of kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. In fact, you felt you couldn't properly call it that. It was a peck. There was no tongue action or no exchange of saliva at any time. Hell, you've experienced hotter moments with members of the same sex (spin the bottle in high school, but it still counts). Your only attachment to this man was a physical one. You knew one day he'd end up a wrinkly old man like the majority of the men you saw at the opera.

Victor cleared his throat, garnering your attention. During the time you were distracted by intrusive thoughts, Victor had shifted his position. He leaned against his desk, feet out in front of him, and his arms were crossed over his chest. The soft lighting in the room made his stern grey gaze appear gentler with a golden hue. He raised an eyebrow at your stare.

"Is there something you need?" He asked, coldly and checked his watch.

You studied him for a moment, wondering if you should say what was on your mind, or if you should keep your concerns to yourself. The longer you took, the more annoyed he seemed to be getting. You learned rather early on that Victor's biggest pet peeve was wasting time.

"I haven't seen you, like, at all since the night of the opera." You finally said, trying to coax him to talk.

"Didn't you get my note?" Victor pushed himself off of the desk to his feet.

"I guess not." You replied coolly.

"One of my American investors tried to back out of a deal last minute. I prefer to handle things in person, so I've spent the last twelve days in Los Angeles attempting to renegotiate the contract." He explained and quickly closed the gap between you.

You tried to ignore the color rising up your neck as he closely inspected your face with a frown.

"I thought you were avoiding me after, well, you know." You said, shutting your eyes so you wouldn't have to meet his.

Victor stifled a chuckle causing you to jerk your head up in surprise. While he was hiding any hint of a smile behind his strong hand, the amusement he felt was shown clearly in his dark eyes.

"You think I'm the type of person to avoid someone after kissing them?" Victor asked, catching your chin and tipping your face towards his.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest. Was he going to do it again? Was he just teasing you? You shut your eyes tightly, unsure of what to expect. Victor seemed to be full of surprises and you never really could figure out what he was thinking.

"Idiot." He muttered and released his gentle grip.

You waited a moment before fluttering your eyes open. Victor had returned to what he had been doing before you interrupted him. You breathed a sigh of relief. Words escaped you at the time being. With shaky legs and a warm face, you turned to exit his office to give yourself some much needed alone time.

You felt embarrassed and ashamed of your behavior at that moment. After living with Victor for so long, you felt confident you knew him pretty well, and ghosting someone didn't seem like something he'd do.

"By the way," he called after you before you had completely removed yourself from his presence, "we're going to a charity auction tonight, so go wash that crap off your face before the stylists show up."

"Crap? I'm trying to learn how to do my own make-up so you don't have to keep hiring stylists." You angrily shot back.

"Whatever you used doesn't match your skin tone. If you insist on doing it yourself, ask the stylist the products and shades she uses on you and I'll have someone pick it up for you."

You grumbled a confirmatory reply, excusing yourself from the office. 

The next few hours became the most excruciating ones of the last few weeks. With Victor being home from the office, he had nothing better to do than spend the afternoon dictating how he wanted your hair and make-up done to the professionals, choosing the outfit you'd be wearing, and constantly reminding you that the women who harassed you at the Opera would likely be attending this event too.

The ensemble you were instructed to wear was a navy blue long-sleeve cocktail dress with a high low hem. The sleeves and bodice of the garment were overlaid with intricate lace. The shoes matched the dress in both color and lace and were topped off with a cute little bow above the toe. He chose a simple hairstyle, left down with loose curls along the bottom with a crescent-shaped silver hairpin used to keep your hair from falling into your eyes. Victor requested silver eyeshadow blending into the same shade of blue as the dress. As annoyed as you felt having him hovering over you, making every tiny decision, you found it more annoying that the man had a pretty good eye for fashion.

You slipped the engagement ring onto your finger followed by the rest of the accessories that had been chosen for you. 

After a quick meal Victor whipped up, it was time to set off.

The car ride into the city was quiet. Victor leaned against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. It occurred to you that while it was only seven o'clock at night, the man next to you had been in L.A. where the time was completely different. You pulled out your phone and quickly searched online what the current time in California; four in the morning. Guilt suddenly struck you. While he was away you had been messaging him every evening with your dinner requests, blissfully unaware you were most likely texting him while he slept. Although he never replied to any of the messages sent, Goldman always brought the food you asked for; along with a lecture on proper diet that you didn't ask for. You tucked your phone into the silver purse you brought and made the conscious decision to stay as quiet as possible to give Victor some much-needed rest.

When the car arrived at the event location, you tentatively gave Victor a gentle shake to rouse him from his slumber. He stifled a yawn and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm sorry if I've been texting you in the middle of the night. I really had no idea you were out of town." You apologized quietly, waiting for the driver to come around and open the door for the two of you.

"If you had the decency to read the note I left for you, you might have known," Victor replied, still sounding slightly groggy.

You shook your head and followed him out of the car. Normally, you would have retorted, but now was neither the time nor the place to start another one of those pesky quarrels the two of you always seemed to share.

Arm-in-arm the two of you entered the hotel hosting the evening event. Employees at the hotel respectfully bowed as you passed, while gesturing with their hands to direct you to the destination. You smiled politely and gave a small bow to each one while Victor kept his eyes forward. It was clear he had been in this particular hotel before. He slowly led you up two flights of stairs overlooking the entrance to two employees, in red bellhop outfits. They opened the large oak doors separating the event from the rest of the lobby.

Inside the spacious room, the high ceilings held multiple chandeliers that looked like tree branches, it's lights like leaves. The carpeting floor was pink with white swirling designs, it had been walked on so much that any high traffic areas were the carpet looked slightly off-colored. Tables had been placed evenly around containing the items up for bid and small white ballot boxes. When questioned by you, Victor explained this wasn't just an ordinary auction, it was a blind auction. Each person invited had the chance to look over the items and write their bid on a ballot provided. Just like standard auctions, whoever bid the highest won. Victor went into detail telling you this was often done to make the guests more social and spend more money on alcohol. On your left, there was one well-stocked, busy bar taking up the entirety of one wall, the opposite wall from where you entered was made up entirely of floor to ceiling glass panels and a door to a grand balcony that overlooked a courtyard in the center of the hotel. The other two walls were lined with comfortable white booths and tables for patrons to relax in. While walking with Victor towards the items on displays you heard a cheery voice call your name from one of the booths. You and Victor both stopped and turned, finding four of the women who had attacked you after the opera were waving you over. You stood for a moment contemplating what to do. These women may have been planning another trip to ruin your evening, but corresponding with other members of the elite citizens would certainly help sell your role as Victor's fiancé. You took a deep breath, swallowed the thick nervous bile that was beginning to make its way up your throat, and released yourself from Victor's grasp.

"If anything happens, don't hesitate to come find me." He said quietly in your ear before slipping away to look at the items on display.

You sheepishly wave to the group of women, one of them being Thelma, who you remembered seemed unamused by the antics of the others the last time you met. Taking one last deep breath, you bit the bullet and shuffled to the women.

"Good evening, ladies." You said politely, awkwardly standing between two sections of the booth they sat in.

"Oh, Elizabeth! We're so sorry about what happened last time!" A blonde wearing an emerald green dress spoke up.

"Please, give us a chance to explain." The woman next to the blonde said.

You nodded and took the empty place next to Thelma. The blonde introduced herself as Allison, the wife of a very wealthy oil tycoon from Texas. They were in town visiting her husband's brother who worked at the U.S. Consulate. The other woman who spoke was Allison's sister-in-law named Ya Ying. She had short black hair styled in a bob and caramel-colored almond-shaped eyes. Ya Ying wore a gorgeous red skin-tight semi-formal dress that had an open collar halfway down to her navel. You found yourself in awe of the way she managed to look regal and refined while wearing something so revealing.

The third woman, Patricia, was the partner of one of the most successful law firms in the city. She was a highly sought-after defense attorney, specializing in white-collar crimes. She stuck out like a sore thumb with the rest of the women, sporting a black pantsuit and very little make-up. Her auburn hair was pulled up into a very tight bun at the back of her head. She had the most vivid green eyes and a hardened stare that was probably intense enough to rival that of Victor's. 

"Patricia, can I ask why you're sitting here with us and not talking with the other attendees?" You questioned, choosing your words carefully.

"Well, Elizabeth dear, the only thing these men talk about are booze, balls, boobs, and business. Sometimes I like interacting with my own gender. There aren't as many female lawyers in our city and most of them work as prosecutors and seem to think I am the enemy simply because I work against them." She explained with a light laugh.

You spent the next few hours sipping some champagne, learning about the women, hearing them apologize multiple times over the way they treated you before, and carefully telling them about yourself. It was difficult keeping your guard up the entire time. The thought of one simple mistake sending this entire charade down the drain made you anxious. Occasionally you'd catch Victor watching you from various places around the room. You found it oddly comforting knowing he was keeping tabs on you the entire night.

The women gushed at your story, of how you, as Elizabeth, and Victor met. They were sympathetic at the loss of your mother.

"I'm really glad you took the time to sit with us. What happened between Chik and Victor wasn't your fault at all and we realize now we were placing blame on the wrong person. Chik is just a really good friend of ours and we hated to see her so hurt." Allison said, patting your hand.

It was clear, Allison was the ringleader of this close-knit group of women.

"How is she doing?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"She could be better. Honestly, Victor needs to stop contact with her altogether. She has it in her mind that he still has feelings for her because he occasionally answers." The blonde took a sip of her drink.

Ya Ying nudged her sister-in-law in an attempt to get her to stop talking. Your heart twinged with pain at the thought that Victor was still in contact with his ex-girlfriend. You shook it off, silently telling yourself you only felt that way because the longer Chik took to get over Victor, the longer you were stuck in this nightmare.

While weighing what you were told, your eyes located Victor crossing the vast ballroom and out onto the balcony. You turned to the group of women, set your half drank glass onto the table in front of you and excused yourself. There was no good time to bring this issue up with Victor, and you knew it would be better to do it sooner rather than later. Allison drunkenly giggled, spouting off that Victor was in trouble as you rose to your feet and carefully navigated around the men and women inspecting the items on the auction tables. 

You slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the smooth concrete. A warm spring breeze greeted you, gently blowing your hair off of your shoulders. You found Victor at the end of the long balcony, leaning against the railing with a drink in one hand. He was staring out over the busy city streets with a faraway look in his eyes. The way the light softened his features and the breeze ruffled his raven locks made him look far more approachable than you had ever seen. You positioned yourself next to him against the railing and looked over the unblinking lights. The man either failed to notice your presence or chose to ignore it, you weren't sure which. After a few more awkward seconds, you learned it was the latter.

"Say what you want to say or go away," Victor said gloomily, taking a sip of the pungent beverage he held.

"I was just thinking this would have been a much more romantic place for a first kiss." You teased.

Victor's dark yet gentle gaze examined you for a long while as if contemplating something serious. The longer he stared at you the warmer you found your face getting.

"What?" You said after some time.

"You remind me of someone." He answered and returned his eyes to the city.

You glanced at the sound of the door opening and spotted an older couple stepping out to get some fresh air together. Biting your lip, you knew you needed to return to the role of Elizabeth. You moved closer to your faux fiancé and wrapped your arm around his and leaned into his shoulder.

"May I ask who?" You asked, sweetly.

"My mother." He answered, taking another sip of his drink.

You could tell this topic of conversation wasn't going to be an easy one for Victor. He hesitated and unconsciously tensed up before he spoke. You slid your hand down his forearm and gave his wrist a gentle squeeze.

"What about me reminds you of her?"

Victor took the glass from his right hand with his left and downed the remainder of the amber liquid. 

"Like you, she was a romantic," he began, lifting himself off the railing and turning to face you. "Strong-willed, smart, energetic."

You smiled at the kind words. While he was lost in the nostalgic thoughts of his mother, you still took his compliments to heart. They were the first nice things he had said to you since you started this surreal contract with him.

"You said she  _ was _ does that mean…" you trailed off not wanting to finish the sentence.

"She passed away when I was fourteen," Victor said quietly.

"I'm so sorry to hear that."

Surprising Victor, and even yourself, you wrapped your arms around his broad chest, giving him a comforting hug. He inhaled sharply at the sudden motion and awkwardly patted your head. With your ear pressed to his chest, you could hear his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Thank you for opening up to me. I know that isn't easy for you." You said, releasing him from your grasp.

"It's getting colder out here, you should get back inside," Victor said sharply, quickly turning from your view.

"You're right. I should get back. Oh, before I forget, the girls told me Chik believes you have lingering feelings because you still answer her calls."

"Your suggestion has been noted." He replied coldly.

You smiled and shook your head at his ridiculousness before returning to the small group of women who were waiting for you.

"Alright, Elizabeth now we need you to dish on the good stuff. Chik told us a lot of stories about Victor and we need you to confirm or deny them." Allison slurred the moment you returned to your seat.

"Dish about what, exactly?" You asked, looking from one girl to the next.

"Is he as good in bed as Chik claims he is?" Thelma piped up.

You gasped and covered your reddening face with both of your hands. Out of every possible question you expected to be thrown at you, this particular topic never crossed your mind.

"I uh…" You stuttered, glancing nervously around the room.

Your eyes fell on Victor rejoining the festivities, palming his empty glass. He glanced at you as he passed and raised an eyebrow at the sudden explosion of giggles this caused.

"Well?" Allison pressed.

You closed your eyes and put yourself back into the Elizabeth mindset. Given her history, it seemed unlikely that she'd have had any chance to date anyone prior to Victor. 

"We're waiting for marriage." You said quietly, dropping your eyes to your lap.

There was nothing else you could say. Elizabeth was far more virtuous and innocent than you were, but you had no experience with Victor one way or another. You had, of course, thought once or twice about the possibility of sleeping with him, however, he usually ruined his chances by opening his mouth.

"Waiting for marriage?" Ya Ying laughed. "Honey, you need to get on that before he starts wandering."

"Wandering?" You knew what they meant but had to play oblivious.

"Chik said he's insatiable. I'm surprised he's even with a virgin!" Ya Ying spoke again.

"Men who cheat will cheat even if you're giving it up. I married a divorce attorney remember?" Patricia said.

"Guys, let's leave poor Elizabeth alone. She seems uncomfortable with this conversation." Thelma jumped in, looking at you with an apologetic smile.

You liked Thelma. She was kind and sweet and extremely loyal to her friends. You learned the reason why she married her ninety-seven-year-old husband was because all he had was her, and he was afraid to die alone. She was his nurse who cared for him for many years. He wanted to make sure he cared for her after he inevitably passed away. Thelma confided in the group that her husband, Mr. Wang, was currently residing in a hospice. He requested she continues to attend every event he was invited to in his place. Mr. Wang was an important person to the city of Loveland and his greatest fear was to be forgotten.

The three other women begrudgingly agreed to change the topic, only to have Victor reappear causing another outburst of laughter from the drunken ladies. He gave them a hardened stare and reached his hand out towards you. 

"Time to go." He said, coldly.

"Awe, no! Wait a minute we need to give Lizzy our numbers!" Allison giggled, swatting Victor's hand away.

He grumbled to himself and shoved his hands in his pockets. You took your phone from your purse, preparing for their contact information. Allison let out a high pitched squeal and snatched your phone from your hand.

"This is such a good picture of you!" She said to Victor, showing the other girls in the group the photo you were using as a background.

"Just add your numbers. The car is waiting." Victor spat, turning from the group.

"Sorry, we'll be quick." You replied, taking your phone back.

Allison, Thelma and Ya Ying showed you their contact pages on their phones while Patricia handed you her business card. You scrambled, taking down all of their information, not wanting to keep Victor waiting for too long. With a polite goodbye and another apology from the women, you set off with your fiancé towards the exit.

The exhaustion Victor felt was quite present now. You often found him stifling another yawn or rubbing his tired eyes.

The ride home was just as silent as the ride to the event. Victor loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and settled comfortably into his seat. You dimmed the screen of your phone and leaned away from him so the light wouldn't keep him awake. The girls had added you to a group text between them resulting in you quickly silencing your phone. You were bombarded with more questions each one more ridiculous than the last, but you did your best to answer their poorly written messages. You thanked yourself for having your wits and denying any more alcohol.

Once home, Victor kept up his silence and crept up the stairs with you in tow. You sent one last goodnight-message in the group chat only to receive "Ghrl, igooe you bet skme" from Allison. Watching Victor close his bedroom door tightly behind him, you shook your head. There's no way in hell you'd sleep with Victor. No matter how curious you were.


	10. Chapter 10

Living in a large house didn't help you avoid Victor for the next few weeks. Plagued with seductive thoughts about the man, you found it unbearable to be near him. The smallest most innocent gestures would set your mind to wander. Fantasizing about attractive men wasn't unfamiliar to you but this was different. This was Victor. This was the man who kept you cooped up in his home day after day, kept you from seeing your friends and family all for some broad who wasn't used to people not being interested in her. Yet somehow your mind pushed beyond your situation and the faults this man had, forcing you to see him in a new light; a much sexier light.

Your new-found friends didn't help the situation much. Patricia sent lengthy articles on various topics from how to perform oral sex to enhancing female orgasms. Allison took a different approach, sending photos of the Kamasutra or links to sexual toys she believed you and Victor would enjoy. Ya Ying went above and beyond, showing off her artistic abilities by sending you expertly drawn sketches of you and Victor in varying states of undress, embracing one another sensually. Of the three, Ya Ying seemed more interested in getting a reaction from you, than simply trying to get you laid. Thelma seemed to be the only one who was on your side at all. Whenever the topic of sex with Victor came up, she always did her best to try to change the topic. Sometimes it worked, but it often led to the girls inviting you out for brunch or shopping. As much as you would have loved to get out of the house for a little while, you knew it was something you'd have to talk to Victor about first.

On this particular lazy Sunday, you reveled in the fact that Victor was probably away golfing with other business persons like he had done almost every Sunday since you moved in. You slipped into a cute two-piece bathing set, tying each tie tightly. It wasn't anything fancy, just a black set that looped around your neck and back. You finished your outfit with a pair of flip flops and hurried down the two flights of stairs to the pool room; the shoes clapping against your heels with every step.

Opening the door, you were greeted with the familiar scent of chlorine. You hummed quietly to yourself, plucking a fresh white towel off of the precisely folded stack on the shelf by the door and shuffled to a nearby chair. A splash of water glued you in your tracks before you had a chance to remove your flip flops. You turned your gaze to the now disturbed water to find the man you had been avoiding currently climbing the pool ladder. Victor stood to his full height upon removing himself from the cool water and pushed his slick, wet hair back off of his forehead. He advanced towards you; his arms swaying slightly as he walked. Your eyes followed a trickle of water run down the middle of his toned chest while you silently wished it were your tongue instead and wondered what his skin tasted like. You tried to shake your head to clear the increasingly naughty thoughts from your mind, but you found you were still completely frozen in awe at the thin strip of body hair leading from his belly button to the waist of his shorts. Victor reached forth and took the plush towel for your hands, using it to wick the moisture from his hair and torso; the muscles of his arms flexing and relaxing with his motions. During that time your eyes continued to drop south, following the abdominal V lines to the black swim shorts clinging to his lower half in such a way it accentuated certain parts you had previously attempted to keep your eyes off of. You managed to peel your eyes away when he wrapped the towel around his waist, obscuring your view.

Horror struck you when you realized how long you had ogling at the man. You weren't completely sure if he was aware of it as well, but judging by the faint rose on his cheeks, you suspected he had. Victor didn't mention it. He quietly shuffled passed you mumbling about dinner in an hour. You turned and watched him leave, confused by his reaction. It was the perfect opportunity for Victor to make his usual smart comment or call you an idiot, yet he refrained.

You stood there, your eyes transfixed on the door the brooding man left through. Contemplating on following him to ask what was going on, you sighed and forced yourself to turn towards the pool. That would likely be a difficult conversation and you just weren't ready for it.

You dipped your toes into the cool, calm water and lowered yourself to the poolside. The urge you had felt to swim had been torn away when you laid eyes on Victor. All you wanted to do was have a few minutes without thinking of him in such a way, only to find yourself staring at his bare torso. You carefully lowered yourself into the pool and leaned back against the side, kicking your legs just enough to give your body some buoyancy. With your eyes closed, you attempted to focus your thoughts on the sounds of the water sloshing quietly around you and the hum of the filters. It worked for a short while before your relaxed mind began to drift back to the images Ya Ying sent you. Your imagination taking things much further than some pencil marks on paper. You unknowingly smiled to yourself imagining Victor's hands caressing your soft skin, his hot breath on your neck, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pressed his hips into you.

Time slipped away as you bobbed against the edge of the pool, rising and lowering slightly with the waves you were creating.

"If you sink any lower, you'll drown, dummy." Came a cold, familiar voice from above you.

You looked up at the dark figure above you, awkwardly gazing away from you with a light blush dusting his features. He raised his hand to his mouth to clear his throat before speaking again, his eyes holding steady on the exit.

"Dinner is ready." He said sharply and turned to leave.

"Wait can you grab me a towel?" You asked, pulling yourself free from the water and onto the tiles surrounding the pool.

"Get your own towel," Victor growled over his shoulder.

"If I recall correctly, you took the towel I was going to use. You're right there, just grab a towel!" You shot back and swiped your flip flops from beneath the chair.

Victor ripped a towel off of the top of the pile and held it out to you, still keeping his gaze turned away. You couldn't help but wonder why exactly he wouldn't look at you. You stopped short a few feet from him and began checking the front of your bathing suit.

"What are you doing? Take the towel. Dinner is getting cold." He grumbled, shaking the white towel in urgency.

"Just trying to figure out why you won't look at me. There's nothing wrong with my suit." You admitted once you were certain all of your private areas were still hidden behind the fabric you wore.

Victor turned to you and locked his eyes onto yours. The pink on his cheeks brightened as you stepped closer. You quickly realized his sudden aversion to you; he had never seen you in such a revealing outfit before now. Biting your lip, you took the towel and began slowly drying your chest off. Victor's eyes shifted to the towel you used to pat your wet breasts, making them jiggle with each movement. The scarlet on his cheeks reddened even more so and he spun around so fast he thought he may fall down.

"Dinner is getting cold." He repeated.

"You said that." You called after him as he excused himself from the room.

The awkwardness you have felt the last few weeks melted away what's seeing him in such a state. You felt as though you have finally found a way to get over the urges you were experiencing. It was very clear by the way Victor had reacted that he was at least somewhat attracted to you and, well, he was a man after all.

After quickly drying yourself off, you scurried up the two flights of stairs to your room as a plan began to form in your mind. You jumped into a ten-second shower with your suit on to rinse the chlorine from the pool off of your body and shook your head at the ridiculousness of the situation. You had been so plagued with nerves and embarrassment you had never considered the possibility of having a chance with Victor. You hadn't been laid in at least six months and you didn't know when you'd be free from this contract to find a date. Victor was your only option.

You hopped from the cool shower, dried yourself for the second time that evening and made your way to the dresser housing the clothing you brought with you. There was no way you'd be able to bring your plan to fruition with the conservative clothing Victor had purchased for you.

You donned a pair of white shorts that barely covered your bottom you usually used for sleeping in and a black tee that had a collar low enough that the edges of your bra were visible. A thin, silver chain around your neck pulled the rest of your ensemble together. It wasn't an overly slutty outfit, you didn't think, but it may just be what you needed to get Victor's attention. After a quick brush through your locks, you burst from your room and clattered down the stairs to the kitchen.

Dinner didn't go exactly as you had planned. Upon entering the kitchen you discovered you were alone. On the counter, in front of one of the stools, a single cloche sat waiting for you. You slumped on the stool and removed the cover revealing a simple grilled tuna and steamed veggies. Resting your cheek on your hand, picking at the dinner trying to formulate a new plan.

It took the entire meal for you to figure out what to do next but an idea slowly came to you. After quickly scrubbing your dishes you made your way to the heavy oak door of Victor's office.

The faint glow beneath the door and the constant clicking of a keyboard confirmed your suspicions that Victor was hard at work as usual. You rapped your knuckles against the thick door, just hard enough for the man at the desk to hear a quiet tapping.

"What is it?" He grumbled, giving you permission to pop your head in.

"Got a minute?" You asked, slipping through the open door.

"No, but I'm sure that's not going to stop you," Victor replied, looking up from the laptop that was perfectly centered on his desk.

He blinked a few times behind the rectangle glasses he wore, eyeing the outfit you wore.

"What are you wearing?" He scoffed.

"I was warm." You shrug and make your way across the room.

You leaned against the old desk, next to the man.

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Only on rare occasions," Victor replied, turning his attention back to the PC in front of him.

You reached forward, grasped both arms of spectacles on his face and slowly removed them. The man shot you a stern look and caught your elbow. You smirked back at him and swiftly hid the glasses behind your back with your free arm.

"Idiot. What are you doing?" He growled, standing up from his chair in a threatening manner. "Give them back."

You curled your fingers around his tie and pulled him closer to your face. Victor let out a deep breath and shut his eyes for a brief moment.

"I will on one condition." You giggled in his ear, pulling him so close your lips nearly grazed his jaw.

Victor pressed his left palm into the desk and loosened his grip on you with his right. His breathing became erratic and he swallowed nervously in your presence. So far it appeared the plan you had come up with was working far better than anticipated, or at least you thought.

"This is inappropriate." Victor pulled back, ignoring the heat of his face.

You stuttered in surprise, expecting him to react differently.

"Return my glasses." He growled darkly and stuck out his hand.

"Only if you agree come downstairs and teach me how to play pool. You've been working so hard, you deserve a little break."

Victor huffed at your words and crossed his arms, still glaring at you. He didn't say anything as he contemplated your conditions.

"Please?" You added with a cheesy grin.

"Fine, but only for ten minutes." He conceded and strode out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay, kids have been sick lately and it's been hard finding time to myself.


	11. Chapter 11

You smiled proudly to yourself, skipping down the long hall to the bar where the pool table was held. Victor followed along with his hands shoved in his pants pockets. His tie and glasses were left upstairs on the desk with his unfinished work. You pushed open the door to the dimly lit room and skipped pleasantly to the large table set near a patio door. Dancing your fingers over the smooth, finished wood lining the table to turned to the man behind you.

"I hope you're gentle. I haven't done anything on a pool table before." You smirked at him, scooping up the cue ball and rolling the heavy object around your palm.

"I'm only going over the basics with you. The rest you can look up on your phone." Victor replied, ignoring your carefully worded statement.

He circled the entire table pulling the different colored balls from the packets and rolled then towards the one end.

"Any games you're somewhat familiar with?" He asked, stopping in front of you.

"Uh, I'm vaguely familiar with the one where one person is solid and the other is stripes." You replied.

"Eight-ball is what that's called." He said, leaning closer to you.

Your breath caught in your throat as his face neared. With a lot of concentration, you kept yourself from turning away. Even with your face burning up, you kept your expression the same, giving Victor a confident, flirty smirk. Victor kept his eyes steady on yours, slipping his hand into the pocket of the table next to you and rolling out the final two balls. You mentally kicked yourself for getting too worked up, although you felt your plan may have been beginning to work. Victor pulled a triangle-shaped piece of wood from a groove in the table and began organizing the balls within it.

"Pick a cue stick." He said, motioning to a rack on the wall nearby.

You pushed yourself off of the table and walked over to the rack, inspecting each one. Some were shorter, others were thinner, and a few of them appeared to have different tips on them. You grabbed the one furthest on the left and returned to your place at the table. Victor finished setting the balls in a perfect triangle and looked up at you.

"Not that one." He sighed and took the cue stick from your hand.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked, following him back to the rack.

"It's used for a different game." He replied, simply and replaced the stick with one that had a slightly bigger tip. "Use this one."

You took the cue stick he handed you and stared at it for a moment. To you, it looked no different than the one you had before.

"I'll show you how to break, but that's it."

You nodded in confirmation at his words and returned to the table once more. Victor placed the cue ball in its place and crossed his arms.

"What are you waiting for? I'm sure you can figure out how to hold the stick." He grumbled.

"Right." You smiled, sheepishly, forgetting for a moment you didn't care whether or not he actually taught you anything.

With one glance at your unamused teacher, you leaned over the edge of the pool table with your cue in hand. An audible sigh from the man behind you drew your attention from the white ball sitting perfectly on a circle printed on the red felt covering the top. You looked over your shoulder, spotting Victor moving toward you.

"Relax your strike hand and move it down. There's a mark on the cue stick where your hand should be placed." He explained, taking your right hand and sliding it about two inches down the shaft.

You bit your lip as he moved behind you and leaned over your back.

"Make a bridge with your other hand." He said in a quieter tone.

His breath tickled your ear as he corrected the positions of your fingers. Making a V with your thumb and forefinger, he slid the cue stick between them. You swallowed hard, feeling his hand enclose itself around yours holding the end of the cue stick, effectively trapping you against the table.

"Lucky for you, you've lined up your shot already. All you have to do is take it." Victor whispered in your ear with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

You nodded and licked your lips, sliding the cue stick back and forth between your fingers. As you did, Victor removed his grip on your hand and slid his hand to your hip. The new sensation made you jump and strike the cue stick forward at an awkward angle. It tapped the cue ball which lazily rolled towards the side of the table.

"Were you paying any attention, dummy?" He asked, annoyed that you managed to miss your first shot.

He reached forward, pressing his hips into your rear and collected the wayward cue ball. The seemingly innocent motion reminded you of your original intentions for the evening. If there was any time to act, it was now. You pushed your lower half against him and squirmed just enough to not make your complete obvious.

"What are you doing?" Victor's lowered voice broke the silence surrounding the two of you.

"Nothing." You replied, trying to mask the amusement in your voice.

Victor let out a sigh of disappointment. It became clear to you, in that moment, Victor had caught onto what you were doing. He slid his hand from your hip towards your stomach while bringing his other hand to your collar, pulling you into an upright position. He whispered your name gruffly, sending a shiver down your spine. His right hand moved north up your neck to rest on your throat; his long fingers tipping your chin back to rest your head against his shoulder. The one day worth of stubble on his chin roughly pricked the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. You clamped your mouth shut tightly, clenching your teeth to stop any sudden noise to break out of you as he ran his lips from your jaw to your ear; blowing his hot, steady breath over your skin. The CEO's fingers teasingly danced around the waistband of your shorts, drawing small circles on your lower stomach.

"I don't play these stupid games." He growled in your ear. "Tell me what you want."

Victor sunk his teeth into your left earlobe, eliciting a moan from your now parted lips. You melted into his embrace and released the cue stick you were gripping onto the red felt top of the table. With your right hand entwining your fingers with his left on your waist and your other hand finding its way to the short black hair on the back of his head, you turned to face him. Your reflection shown in his steely grey eyes but held no emotion of their own. You licked your dry lips slowly and made a conscious decision to not back down. You knew what you wanted and it was about time you took your chance.

"I want you." You admitted against his lips. .

"Hmm." He breathed, mulling over your statement for a time.

Victor navigated his hand from your throat to cup your exposed cheek and ran his thumb over your moistened lips. You pleaded with him through half-lidded eyes, silently begging him to bend you over the table and have his way with you. He brought his face closer, teasingly breathing against your lips. With your heart pounding hard inside your ribs, you anticipated the sweet taste of his kiss. When no contact was made, you reopened your eyes to find he had pulled his face away; an amused half-smirk plastered on his features.

"I don't think so." Victor remarked coldly, removing your hand from the back of his head.

You dropped your head in confusion as he removed himself from embracing you and saunter over to the bar.

"What the hell was all that then?" You groan and spun around.

You watched intently as Victor pulled a bottle of amber-colored alcohol off of the shelf and poured himself a small glass.

"I could ask you the same thing." He retorted, tipping the glass to you, gesturing at your outfit.

"That's completely different." You spat.

"Explain."

You stormed over to the bar, snatched beverage from his hand right as he was about to take a sip, and downed the drink in one gulp. You winced and coughed at the sour taste. The burning sensation fueled the fire that had erupted in your chest when he left you high and dry.

"I put this on to get your attention. I was completely willing to put out. You just teased me." You grumbled, resting yourself against the barstool to your left.

Victor let out a chuckled and filled his glass once more.

"I'm not romantically interested in you." He said, finally taking a sip of the drink he craved.

You felt annoyed, angry, cheated and worst of all, so turned on you thought you might explode.

"The feeling is mutual. I don't want to date you, Victor. I just want to sleep with you." You scoffed, reaching for his glass once more.

Victor pulled his drink back and looked you over slowly. It was obvious he was actually contemplating on what had said. He finished his drink, quickly washed the cup in the sink and placed it back where he retrieved it from before, ignoring your outstretched hand.

"The last time someone 'just wanted to sleep with me' I ended up with you." He admitted, circling the bar, placing himself next to you.

You thought of Chik and all of the second-hand stories you heard from her friends. With that statement, Victor confirmed at least part of what Chik had said was true. However, how much of what she said was true you didn't know, and that was where your curiosity lay. You swung your legs around to face the man and reflexively began smoothing down the wrinkles on the front of his shirt. 

"Thing is, Chik never intended to just sleep with you. From what her friends told me, she thought by doing so would result in you falling for her. I don't have an ulterior motive like she did. I don't like you, Victor. I find you cold and cruel. Not the type of guy I intend on spending my life with." You started, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "I just have these needs and I can't go out and find someone else to fulfill them without risking this entire… whatever you want to call it."

Victor took your hand and flattened your palm against his chest. Your heart raced to match his quickened heartbeat. His gaze softened with thought and his eyes darted between yours.

"I will consider your proposal, but for now I need to return to work." He spoke calmly with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Victor released your hand, stepped away, and by turning his back to you, he left through the open door.

You watched his form become smaller with each step he took; the sounds of his exit echoing down the hall to you. Mixed emotions flooded you, keeping you in place for some time. 

Your shifted your gaze back to the pool table; the balls still undisturbed in a perfect triangle. You slid off of the stool, pick up the cue and line up your shot. Pulling your arm back, you shot the cue forward, expertly breaking the balls. They scattered across the table, two of them find their way into pockets.

You continued to play in the light of the sun setting outside of the patio doors which illuminated the dim room a brilliant orange. The multitude of bottles and glass cups lining the wall behind the bar sparkled in the light. You lined up another shot, took it and sank the ball in the far left corner.

"I must be a better teacher than I originally thought. Now if only you had picked up on your dance lessons that well. You could have saved me weeks of agony." The unamused, cold voice from Victor sounded from behind you. "Or perhaps it was that year you worked at a pool hall?"

You spun around to find the CEO standing near the bar. His upper half was hidden in the shadows of a support beam, the sunset reflecting in his eyes made it look as though two yellow eyes were peering at you. He dropped a brown manila envelope on the bar.

"You knew about that?" You blurted out, mortified that he knew your intentions all along.

"I know a lot more than you think, dummy. I would never go into a partnership with someone without doing research on them." He sighed and cast his gaze to the envelope before him, spreading his fingers over the thick paper. "Look this over and come find me."

You opened your mouth to reply, but Victor didn't give you a chance. He spun on his heels and sauntered out of the room quickly. You cleared up the pool table, putting each ball, except for the white cue ball, into a pocket, and placed the stick in its place on the rack. Picking up the envelope, you flipped it over to check both sides. Nothing was written on it. Curiously, you opened it up and pulled out the contents; a lone piece of paper. A gasp escaped you after reading the first line:  _ Regulations for Casual Intimacy _

Not only had Victor agreed, but he had come up with a strict set of rules the two of you were supposed to follow. After the initial shock died down you read the list to yourself. To you some of the rules made sense, but others seemed to suck a lot of the fun out of it. You leaned against the bar, dropping the paper to your thigh in thought. His regulations were extremely strict but it was better than nothing. You lifted the paper and scanned the words once more before pushing yourself off of the bar and plodded out of the room.

The house was quiet and dark as you crept up the stairs to the main floor. Your first instinct was to check his office, but finding the light off it was clear he wasn't there. You stopped for a moment to listen for any sounds on the floor.

Wandering around the big house searching for him did not seem like a fun idea, yet whenever he needed to find you he always seemed to know where he was. A quiet creak from the floorboards on the second floor tipped you off on his location. You climbed the stairs and headed down the darkened hallway, lit only by the faint seam of light from under his bedroom door. Taking a deep breath to calm the nervousness building inside of you, you knocked on his door.

"Come in." Victor's calm, deep voice called, sounding muffled through the wood parting the two of you.

Taking the silver, curved handle in hand, you opened the door and slipped in quietly. Your heart jumped into your throat finding him standing next to his bed with his shirt mostly unbuttoned. His eyes were cast down watching as his nimble fingers plucked the remaining button from its place on the placket.

"Did you read over the terms?" He asked, shrugging the black dress shirt off of his broad shoulders.

"You're really going to the whole fleshlight experience here aren't you?" You quipped, attempting to mask your anxiety.

Victor flicked his eyes to you, the grey irises flashed with annoyance.

"A simple yes or no would suffice." He growled, swiftly walking past you to place the shirt in a laundry basket next to the door.

"Yes, Victor. I read your terms." You sighed looking down at the paper again.

"And do you agree to my terms?" The CEO asked in your ear, having closed the short distance from the wall to you.

You swallowed hard, feeling his warm hands pressing into your hips. He slowly spun you around and began walking you back towards the plush king-sized bed. You felt the mattress press into your thighs; his fingers pressing into your waist, impatiently waiting for a reply.

"I.. I do agr-" you started, having your words cut off by his lips pressed roughly against yours. 

Victor's hand found its way to the back of your head, lacing his fingers through your locks. You pulled your arms up over his shoulders and around his neck to keep your wobbly legs from collapsing beneath you. You whimpered, feeling his tongue push into your mouth, tasting like mint. Embarrassment suddenly flowed through you. Here you were, most likely tasting like dinner and the small bit of alcohol you had while the man you were kissing had clearly prepared and brushed his teeth before your encounter. You pulled yourself away, wanting just a minute to recover from your thoughts. Victor grasped the bottom of the shirt you wore and pulled at it.

"Lift your arms." He commanded with a seductive smirk on his parted lips.

You rose your arms above your head, allowing Victor to quickly removed the skin-tight fabric from your torso. His lips crashed against yours once more, taking the time to nibble gently on your bottom lip. You groan and drop your head back as he traced your jaw with soft kisses. Victor's pressed harder into you, pushing your back towards the bed. You slid your hand off of his neck and pressed it into the comforter, bracing your body. With his lips on your neck, his free hand slipped up your bare back to the clasp holding the band of your bra together. Flicking his wrist, you felt the band around your ribs loosen. Victor moved his hand to your front, and slipped it beneath your bra, grasping a handful of your right breasts.

"Remove those shorts off and get into bed." He panted into your ear.

You sit up as he pulled away, his hand released your breast and grabbed the fabric of your bra to remove it. Black hair dropped into his eyes when he dipped his head to undo the belt around his waist. You shimmied out of your shorts and crawl over the top of his bed to the middle and glide yourself under the covers. 

Turning to the balcony window, you focused your attention on the starry sky outside. This whole situation made you feel awkward and so nervous you felt nauseated. Normally, this never happened but you chalked it up to Victor's stupid rules that prevented you from fully enjoying yourself.

You returned your gaze to Victor at the feeling of the layers of covers being removed from your body. You blushed at the now nude man crawling across the bed before placing himself at your feet. Even when pulling your panties off of you, he still held his typical serious expression. Victor propped your knees up and spread your legs, giving himself access to the rest of you. You blushed wildly and closed your eyes, hoping a few deep breaths would calm your nerves. Listening intently, you hear the unmistakable crinkle of a condom wrapper being torn open.

_ This is it.  _ You thought to yourself.  _ I'm actually about to have sex with Victor! _

"Everything alright?" His steady voice broke the awkward tension that had been stifling you.

"I'm fine." You replied, faking a cheery tone.

Victor cocked an eyebrow at your response but said nothing more. With one hand wrapping itself around your left thigh, he guided his erection to your entrance with the other. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow at the sensation of him entering you. Victor removed his hand from himself and placed it on your other thigh, pulling you towards himself while simultaneously moving his hips forward; pushing more of his cock into you. He rolled his hips slowly, starting off at a steady pace.

Your mind and heart never stopped racing since the moment you knocked on his door. At this current moment, all you could think about was what to do with your hands. You closed your eyes and brought your hands to your face, silently begging yourself to stop thinking and enjoy the moment. Victor noticed your actions, released your legs and moved both arms away from your face. He leaned forward, bracing his weight on his hands placed on either side of you. You let out a quiet moan at the sudden change in position, effectively shutting your mind up for a moment. The CEO pressed his lips to yours in a heated manner, panting heavily each time you'd break away.

He worked harder, thrusting his lower half harder against you almost as though he was attempting to get you to make noise again. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you slowly began to get over your worries and enjoy yourself. Victor carefully maneuvered your legs, draping them over his inner elbows and pressed harder into you, bringing you knees closer to your ears. You tipped your head back and let out another more pleasurable moan. You watched him through your lashes as beads of sweat began to form on his brow. His darkened eyes held a mixture of emotions: confidence, lust, pleasure and something else you couldn't quite figure out.

Victor pressed his body tighter to yours, dropped his head into the crook of your neck and picked up his pace, thrusting fast and hard against you. Heavy pants and the occasional grunt from him blended in with the sound of your moans, as the two of you both neared climax. Your hands pulled at his raven locks and pressed into the flexing muscles of his shoulder blade.

You threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure surged and exploded through you, dulling your senses and your mind. A louder than average moan escaped you when the release came, warming your extremities with fresh hot blood pumping through your veins. Victor groaned in kind, pressed himself deeper into you reaching his peak and finishing with a shudder. He slowed his rolling hips to a stop, pulled his face away from your neck and finished the experience with a hot passionate kiss.

Victor pulled away, releasing your legs which shook slightly. He held the base of the condom to prevent it from slipping off and spilling over his bedding. You sat up with a wince, feeling sore from the roughness and position you were in. Victor excused himself to the bathroom. You took a moment, shifted yourself to the edge on the bed, and draped your legs over the edge. The hardwood floors felt cool against the soles of your feet. You shuffled across the floor, collecting the few articles of clothing that had been thrown precariously around the room. Standing there, half-covered, you turned your attention to the sound of Victor returning to his sleeping quarters clad in a set of silk pajamas.

“Do you know where my underwear went?” You asked, kneeling on the floor to look under the bed.

From your position, you could only see his feet as he walked over to the opposite side and scooped the object you were looking for off of the floor. You stood, watching him circle the bed, your underwear dangling off of the tip of his pointer finger.

“Thank you.” You mumbled and took the article of clothing from him.

“Get some sleep.” He said not hiding the exhaustion in his voice.

“You too. Goodnight.” You flashed him an embarrassed smile and removed yourself from his room the second your clothes were put on.

After finishing your nighttime routine and you climbing into the bed you slept in, you quietly grumbled to yourself about how much more comfortable his bed was. You yawned and turned towards the window, reliving the night’s events in your mind. The whole thing still felt like a surreal dream and that when you awoke tomorrow morning, you and Victor would be exactly as you were just days before.

You closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, thinking of the man in the next room; a blissful smile plastered across your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of The Psychological Contract, but before you all start freaking out, I've decided to make it a series and this is just the end of part one. Keep an eye out for Part Two: The Physical Contract.


End file.
